


Queen of Peace

by bratanimus, mrstater



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Babies, Canonical Character Death, Childbirth, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake Marriage, First Time, Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Force Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Living Together, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Newborn Children, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Romance, Sex, Smut, Tragic Romance, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 117,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratanimus/pseuds/bratanimus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater
Summary: With the twins’ future at stake, Obi-Wan questions the will of the Force…until it guides him to a friend from the past. Working together again, they find answers to questions much larger than ones they thought to ask. [post-RotS, Obi-Wan x Sabé romance, Rey Kenobi origin]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fic is AU in that it explores what might have happened if Yoda and Obi-Wan had taken a little more time to decide the fate of the twins. Although most of the chapters take place prior to the end of Episode III, the first one fills in some missing moments from Episode I that lay the foundation for the rest. For our story purposes, we only take movie canon into account, though we've borrowed elements from other canon sources and the EU here and there. The title comes from the Florence + the Machine song of the same name. We will post regularly on Sundays and Wednesdays, so look for updates until all 17 chapters are up. Thanks for reading!

**_PROLOGUE_ **

_ 32 BBY _

To Obi-Wan Kenobi, the time spent awaiting battle shouldn’t have been calm. But often, despite his expectations, it was. Boring, as a matter of fact. 

That unexpected sense of peace never failed to startle him, tugging at the corners of his mouth until Qui-Gon had to ask what was so funny, prompting Obi-Wan to shake his head and try once more to look as serious as the situation warranted.

In this case, the situation was the mundane act of nourishing their bodies before their ragtag group—the  _ real _ queen, Padmé; her handmaidens; Captain Panaka; a few resistance leaders; and the two Jedi, along with the problematic addition of the boy Anakin—stormed Theed’s Royal Palace while the Gungans drew the droid army away from the city. Whatever the outcome, it was likely to be a long day. Thankfully, the rations they’d brought from the starship were enough, if not exactly tasty. But the setting was remarkably beautiful.

Obi-Wan could understand why Naboo’s Sacred Place, with its toppled statues of the Elders, was important to the Gungans. Padmé had told him and Qui-Gon that no one was sure if the statues were of the Elders themselves or their gods, but to Obi-Wan it made no difference. He felt the Force here, breathed it in with the crisp air. The sky was clear, and a light breeze tickled his neck as he chewed his energy cube and looked around.

Beyond a stand of trees, Padmé sat with her handmaidens and Anakin, who seemed quite taken with her, in a circle on the soft, green grass. After showing the boy something on her datapad--a map of the palace, perhaps--she spoke in low tones to her handmaidens, presumably giving them  their assignments, which no doubt she would share with the rest of the group once they’d all broken their fast. Her decoy still wore the queen’s raiments, black and red with that ridiculous headpiece—how could one  _ think _ with such foppery balanced on one’s head?—while Padmé and the rest were clad in simple burgundy gowns accented with gold.

“The queen and her decoy do bear an uncanny resemblance to one another," his Master remarked, seeing where his attention had drifted. "Did you suspect?”

Obi-Wan turned back and swallowed a dry bite with a few draughts of water from his canteen. “No. I never did. Did you?”

“Not for a moment,” replied Qui-Gon. Having finished his ration, he reclined with his hands behind his head on the grass and looked up through the canopy of trees, his lined features relaxed and smooth as the stone faces that lay scattered in the meadow beyond. Sunlight dappled his skin. “Though I did wonder about Padmé. For a handmaiden, she seemed quite willful. I assumed that was the queen’s preference.”

“So you’re finally admitting that it’s good to be accompanied by someone with a mind of their own?”

Qui-Gon’s laughter startled a group of Gungans, Jar Jar among them, and half a dozen heads swiveled on long necks to look at the two Jedi. Obi-Wan waved at them, then shifted where he sat on the grass to face his Master more directly.

“Actually, I had similar thoughts about Padmé’s decoy,” he confessed.

_ Sabé _ , her name was, but somehow he didn’t think it proper to refer to her so personally, particularly now that he knew she was a bodyguard, and closer to his own age than he’d thought. She wasn’t a child at all. He felt a flush warm his cheeks and inexplicably he regretted his confession.

“Oh?” prompted Qui-Gon, and without even looking Obi-Wan recognized the restrained humor in his Master’s voice. “What did you notice?”

_ Never mind _ and  _ nothing _ were considered meaningless responses to defer true introspection or outward examination, so Obi-Wan bit down until he’d formulated an answer he thought he could stomach. “I saw a glimmer of something…different. When we were on the starship while you bartered for the hyperdrive.”

That was after the dust storm—the afternoon when Tatooine’s two suns had aligned.

“The phenomenon is called syzygy,” the young woman he’d thought was Naboo’s girl-queen had said as she stood with her remaining handmaidens before a viewport. “When three celestial bodies align—in this case, the planet and its two suns.”

Obi-Wan, standing off to one side, followed her gaze. The two suns were, indeed, approaching each other, their combined brilliance in the lingering haze following the dust storm too dazzling to behold without the protection of the transparisteel.

“Have you heard of another celestial phenomenon known as The Lovers’ Embrace?” she asked.

He crossed to stand beside her. As he’d thought, the view of the suns was better here. “No, I haven’t.”

“Three times a year the two moons of Elrood appear almost to touch,” she explained, holding her hand up as though measuring how close the suns were now. Her fingers were long and graceful, just like he’d always imagined a queen’s would be. “It’s a time of celebration. The people give gifts, write poems...and marry. No one knows whether it’s caused by the syzygy or whether it’s merely tradition.”

“Like most cultural practices, I imagine it stems from a little of both.”

“Well stated, Jedi,” she said with a smile in her voice, an unexpected departure from the flat, protected tone she normally took.

But when he turned to look, the smile had disappeared from her face, if it had been there at all.

“There is a counterpoint to that event,” she went on, matter-of-fact once more. “The Lovers’ Conflict happens when the two moons are on opposite sides of the sky. Can you guess what happens then?”

Obi-Wan had to smile, for the question sounded just like one of Qui-Gon’s. “People fight?”

“Exactly,” she said with a nod, and this time he thought he saw her lips quirk in the beginning of a tiny smile, the same curious one he’d seen when she’d ordered her handmaiden Padmé to clean up the R2 unit. “There’s an increase in violent crime. Can people control their responses to that phenomenon? Would they even wish to?”

“It would seem that The Lovers’ Embrace and The Lovers’ Conflict have become an integral part of Elrood’s collective psyche.”

“For better or for worse,” she said with a frown. 

Elrood, Tatooine, Naboo, it didn’t matter: here was a queen looking after her people. If the phenomena happened on Naboo, Obi-Wan could imagine her wagging a long finger at those moons and demanding they cease their meddling.

“Or perhaps it’s simply balance,” he said, unable to resist tossing the other side of the argument before her.

Her stare was startling in its intensity, as though she were trying to divine a deeper meaning from his words. Beneath the white powder and red cheek spots he saw her features soften, her lips part as she considered a retort.

Then her eyes slid back to the phenomenon outside the viewport. And she laughed.

A light that had nothing to do with Tatooine’s binary suns brightened her dark eyes so that they shimmered from within, and the sound of her throaty laughter shook him. He’d never seen her teeth, so white and straight in that broad and vulnerable grin, and he felt somehow as though he’d stumbled upon her in her bath. She reached out blindly for his shoulder to tap it so he would look at the viewport, too. But he found it difficult to turn his eyes from what he saw now was the  _ real _ queen, a joyful young woman delighting in an unanticipated moment of splendor. He felt laughter bubble in his throat, though no sound escaped.

“Look, Obi-Wan.” She shook his shoulder. “Look!”

The shock of hearing his given name spoken by the queen seemed to awaken him from his trance, and he finally heard the handmaidens’ awed whispers surrounding them like ghosts. With a belated jerk, he turned to face the transparisteel.

One sun in front of the other created a magnificent sphere of energy, appearing nearly crimson because of the dust particles still hovering in the air from the earlier storm. It was as though some deity had hurled a massive ball of flame into the air, where it hung like a child’s mobile, its only purpose to create beauty and amusement for the mere mortals on the planet’s surface.

Obi-Wan’s mouth dropped open. “It’s—” But he stopped there and could not go on.

“Yes,” the queen breathed beside him, looking with him into the sky. Her hand still clutched his shoulder. “It is.”

“What was it, do you think?” Qui-Gon’s voice brought Obi-Wan back to the here and now.

“What was what?” His Master must have meant the syzygy; perhaps he hadn’t seen it while he sheltered from the dust storm at the Skywalker home. Obi-Wan realized he still flushed, thinking of his awkward bow and his murmured  _ Your Highness _ as he’d extricated himself from the queen’s firm grip on his shoulder. Why had her touch unnerved him so?

“You said that on the starship you saw something different in the queen. In her decoy, I should say.”

Obi-Wan glanced again at Sabé, her profile serene as she looked at one of the Elders’ carved stone heads lying in the grass like some forgotten toy. Padmé had confessed she felt unsettled by the toppled carvings; but it seemed that Sabé, like Obi-Wan, found them peaceful. Perhaps the Force’s presence in this place called to her, too, despite her not being a practitioner. The idea made his heart judder, and he had to sweep the emotion aside.

“It’s—” He’d been about to say  _ It’s just _ , but there was nothing  _ just _ about it. “I think I saw her true self for a moment.”

“You mean the person beneath the mask she wears?”

He nodded, grateful that Qui-Gon seemed to understand what he meant.

“Many people wear masks," Qui-Gon said, "those who protect others most of all, for they wish not to appear weak or frightened around those who rely on them. It’s a gift to see someone’s true essence. A gift to the giver, and to the receiver. It was brave of her to share that with you.”

A sudden lurch in Obi-Wan’s chest sent a jolt through him. Again, he could only nod.

“Can you tell the difference between them now?”

“Of course.”

“Show me.” Qui-Gon propped himself up on his elbows.

Obi-Wan studied the profiles of Padmé and Sabé as they sat together in the sun. “Sabé is at least three inches taller than Padmé. She’s thinner, too.”

“What else?”

“Sabé’s chin and nose are sharper.” Unbidden, an image of how the bridge of her nose had crinkled when she’d laughed blazed in his mind. He quickly brought himself back to the task of his list. “Her gaze is more shrewd. Her hands are more delicate.”

“What else?”

Obi-Wan paused. “She has a kind smile.”

“I noticed you said nothing about Padmé.”

“I—” A surge of defensiveness coursed through him, though in truth he had nothing to feel defensive about. He breathed until the waves of unwelcome emotion crashed over him and ebbed. 

“It’s—” But when he tried again to speak, he found he still had no excuse, if his Master even wanted one. Why did he feel cornered all of a sudden? Could Qui-Gon see something he could not? Certainly he could see the color in Obi-Wan's burning cheeks.

“It’s all right,” chuckled Qui-Gon as he sat up to face his Padawan. “You know my thoughts on the matter.”

Obi-Wan did indeed, and there was his answer. “I don’t have feelings for her,” he said quickly, angry that his Master would choose this moment to teach another lesson about attachment. They were mere hours from attempting to capture the viceroy—presuming, of course, that the mysterious Sith who had confronted Qui-Gon on Tatooine didn’t make another appearance. But of course Qui-Gon had never taught according to a proper schedule.

Besides, hadn’t Qui-Gon just told the Council that his Padawan was ready to be a Knight? Why was he still teaching him at all? Obi-Wan looked at Anakin sitting between Padmé and another handmaiden whose name he didn’t know, a dusty slave boy framed on both sides by royal colors, and felt a strange jealousy.

He closed his eyes and let the feeling slip away.

“Perhaps not,” Qui-Gon assented, bringing him back to the conversation once more. “You barely know her. But…you saw a glimpse, did you not? And that glimpse—”

“It didn’t change me,” said Obi-Wan.

“How do you know?”

“Master...” He wished his tone didn’t sound so pleading. He thought of Qui-Gon’s insistence that nothing happened by accident. He’d meant it in reference to finding Anakin, but did that mean every connection had a larger significance? If so, how could he prioritize them, make them all fit?

“I want to walk the path of the Jedi," Obi-Wan went on in a lowered his voice—but then it sounded like the queen’s, a guarded monotone, though he was powerless to change it now. "I refuse to seek out distraction. It’s nothing but trouble.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled as he listened, and Obi-Wan’s flush deepened.

“How do you know?” his Master asked again.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. They’d had this argument before, early in the morning and late at night, analyzing ancient poems about finding what was never sought, going round and round until Obi-Wan wasn’t certain where he stood and had to stalk away to try and stop thinking about it. How many times would they discuss the merits of living a balanced life, a life which went against all the teachings of the Council and every holobook he’d ever read about the Order?

“A strong Jedi would not veer from the path,” Qui-Gon said, resting a broad hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “A strong Jedi would allow attachment and still choose right.”

Though he couldn’t know it, Qui-Gon gripped the same shoulder Sabé had held so firmly on the starship. Here was an opportunity to choose right, and Obi-Wan chose to keep his gaze on his Master, blinking as he struggled to prevent it from drifting back to Sabé.

“After all,” Qui-Gon went on with a smile, “are you and I not attached? And you choose wisely every day. It’s the weak Jedi who must sequester himself and resist this so-called  _ distraction _ .”

“I choose the Force,” said Obi-Wan, raising his chin. “I won’t fail you.”

“Ah, well, that’s commendable,” Qui-Gon sighed as he sat back again, looking at the statues of the Elders, or their gods, or whatever they once had been. “In doing so, just make certain you don’t fail yourself.”

~*~

 

_ 25 BBY _

On the final day of Queen Amidala's reign, she summoned Sabé Al'Lur to her personal chamber.

Sabé entered the royal apartment with a sense of its vastness she hadn't felt since she first came to the palace as a seventeen-year-old working-class girl from Keren. Her heart fluttered in the cavern of her chest as she crossed the marble tiles beneath the vaulted ceiling. Breaths shuddered despite long inhales and exhales in an attempt to steady them. Her hands shook, too, as she took her place behind the dressing table bench where Padmé sipped caf and watched the HoloNet. They exchanged good mornings, but when the queen said nothing further, Sabé began to unweave the plaits she slept in. She couldn't gauge Padmé's mood or how she'd taken the news.She had to have read Sabé's message; why else would she have sent for her alone? Only when the braids had been let down and Sabé reached to retrieve the ivory-handled brush from the dressing table did Padmé look up from the datapad and catch her eye in the mirror.

"How do you think I should wear it for my last day? There's a poll this morning:  _ Eight Years, Eight Hairstyles of Queen Amidala. Vote for your favorite _ . I'm glad to know my time as Queen of Naboo has been so noteworthy."

Sabé gave a little snort of laughter as she pulled the brush through the dark, wavy strands cascading to the small of the queen's back. "So we saw."

"I'm sure it gave you all a good laugh over your breakfast." Padmé brought her caf cup to her smirking lips.

In fact Sabé had been too preoccupied to laugh much with her fellow handmaidens, or to eat more than a few bites, but Padmé's amusement settled her now.

"All except for Rabé," she said, smiling back.

"Wasn’t she delighted to see her work featured publicly?"

"She pretended to disagree with some of the choices, but yes. Although if you want to leave a lasting legacy in Nabooian hairstyling--" Now it was Padmé who snorted. "--she'd serve you better."

Sabé wasn't an incompetent hairdresser, but as the queen's primary double, she'd spent considerably more time having her hair arranged into the elaborate coiffures than learning to do them herself. As evidenced by the considerably less intricate arrangement of three loops she'd twisted her own hair into today. Sometimes, though, she found it calming to style Padmé's hair. Meditative. 

"But there's so little time left for you," Padmé said.

In the mirror, Sabé watched the smile fade from the face that was almost a perfect reflection of her own. Perhaps less so in recent years than when Padmé was a girl of fourteen, but still striking enough in their resemblance as to fool even those who knew them well. 

Or a pair of Jedi. 

"I was sorry to read your resignation letter," the queen added, her voice low, every trace of humor gone. "And if I'm honest, surprised."

Sabé's gaze dropped to Padmé's hair. She lowered the brush, clutching it in both hands in front of her skirt, the temporary relief from the unsettled feeling gone as guilt hastily took up residence. The bench's legs scraped the floor as it pushed back, and silk dressing gown whispered against brocade upholstery as Padmé rose and stepped around it to face her handmaiden.

"I assumed you'd continue as part of my entourage on Coruscant."

"I'm sorry." Sabé blinked against the sting in her eyes and the bright splendor of the room in the morning sunlight. "I should have--"

Padmé held up a hand, signaling for her to stop. "I  _ shouldn't  _ have. You've been with me for eight years, after all."

"Long enough to make it safe to assume."

"That you wouldn't want to stop living my life and lead your own?" Padmé asked, an eyebrow raised, the corners of her mouth upturned.

_ Want.  _ That was precisely the problem. Sabé looked down at her hands, still wringing the hairbrush. She didn't know what she wanted. Or rather, she did. But she couldn't have it, and she didn't know what she wanted instead.

Another rustle of fabric. Padmé's embroidered slippers beneath the hem of her gown came into view as she closed the distance between them. She lay her hand over Sabé's, gently prising her fingers from the handle of the brush and turning to place it on the dressing table.

"Why didn't you tell me you were thinking of leaving? You can't have thought I'd be angry."

"No, Your Highness. I was afraid you'd think I was being…disloyal."

"Disloyal? Sabé, you're the very last person I could think that of." Padmé's hands closed around hers again. "You're so much more than my handmaiden. You're the truest friend I've had, as much a sister as Sola." There was no doubting her sincerity, but playfulness glimmered in her eyes as she added, "Which is why I'm asking you to never call me  _ Your Highness  _ again."

"Of course not. After today it'll be  _ Your Excellency, Senator Amidala. _ "

Padmé's laughter rang out, joyful peals that made it impossible for Sabé not to smile even as the queen's compliments tugged at her heart.

She wasn't the first to have paid her such kindness.

Sabé's gaze drifted over the queen's head. Outside the arched floor-to-ceiling windows rose the skyline of Theed, green and gilded domes aglow with sunlight against the clear sky. A pair of double doors swept out onto a terrace that overlooked the Royal Plaza. She could almost see him leaning against the railing--not of  _ this  _ balcony, but one very like it in another part of the palace: a young man slumped beneath the weight of sorrow that was draped over his shoulders as heavily as his brown cloak.

She'd cleared her throat as she stepped through the doors, for she didn't wish to startle him from his reverie, but he'd already straightened up, the folds of his cloak swinging a little as he turned toward her.  _ Nobody sneaks up on a Jedi, stoopa! _ she chided herself inwardly. His posture, hands folded together beneath the billowing sleeves of his cloak, his expression, pleasant, at peace in the universe, made her question what she thought she'd read in his body language the moment before.

On the other hand, she might not be a Jedi, but her line of work had taught her a thing or two about concealing emotion.

"Obi-Wan," she said, by way of greeting. 

He hesitated, barely for the space of a heartbeat, before responding in kind. "Sabé."

It shouldn't have surprised her that he remembered her name, but it did. They hadn't had a chance to speak since her identity was revealed, between the battle and the aftermath and the arrival of the Jedi Council for Qui-Gon Jinn's funeral. In a way, this was the first time they'd spoken at all. 

"Are you sure? I could be the queen sneaking away from the feast in disguise."

His eyebrows hitched upward, mirroring her expression. "Quite sure." 

"Do your senses tell you?"

For a moment she worried he might think she was making fun of him, or that he wasn't in the mood for teasing, so soon after the death of his Master. But standing before him, she saw the light of quiet laughter in his blue eyes, and the corresponding gentle curve of  his lips as he replied, "They tell me young Anakin has kept a hawk eye on Padmé since she revealed herself to be the queen."

With a glance back at the double doors where the party went on, Sabé  _ hmm _ ed. "Yes, you'd better take that one back to Coruscant before the queen decides to replace her bodyguards."

"He's a little short for a decoy. The headdresses would fall down over his eyes."

Laughing at the image, and glad she bore no headdress at the moment but rather her own silvery-grey hooded cloak, she turned back to Obi-Wan. His mouth still curved in a faint smile, but  his gaze was intent upon her face.

"It's a bit like telling twins apart," he said, coming back to her question. "Even identical ones aren't entirely…" He gestured vaguely. "…identical. You are the woman I watched the syzygy with."

Sabé had a sudden sensation of standing at a great height, which had nothing whatsoever to do with her physical position on a balcony above much of the city. 

"You passed the test. I'm just the handmaiden," she said, hoping her voice didn't sound shaky, though she was short of breath.    


Part of her wanted to tear herself away from the observant eyes, which were putting the limits of her composure to another kind of test. A larger part wanted him to know her as she truly was, for she'd felt him watching her like this as Tatooine's twin suns aligned. Sharing an awestruck moment like that while in the guise of another person felt somehow wrong. Which was one reason she'd sought him out tonight.

"I do apologize for the deception," she said. "For deceiving  _ you _ . It wasn't personal."

"No apologies are necessary," Obi-Wan replied, the small smile returning, his expression kind. "The success of your ruse required complete secrecy. You didn't offend me, I assure you, Sabé."

With a nod, she moved to stand at the ledge. Although the dizzy sensation had passed, she was grateful for the solid stonework beneath her palms. Obi-Wan lingered behind her, as if he didn't know what to do next. Sabé was at the brink of asking if she was invading his privacy when she heard the scuff of his sole on the stone terrace floor close behind her as he stepped alongside her. 

He stood just near enough that his cloak almost brushed her shoulder, but not quite. Folded his arms in front of him, hands tucked into the wide sleeves.For a moment they stood in companionable silence. Sabé let out a discreet sigh of relief as she looked down at the cobbles far below, which were still littered with confetti and the detritus of the morning's celebration. The din of this evening's drifted through the open doors behind them.

"So why  _ is  _ the queen's handmaiden sneaking off from the feast?" asked Obi-Wan at length.

"Why is the Jedi?"

Obi-Wan's gaze flickered from hers, darkening, only to return with a glint of amusement. "I may be clearing my head after overindulging in the Alderaan ruge liqueur."

"Easily done," replied Sabé.

Her chuckle felt as forced as his smile looked. Should she leave him be, give him the privacy to frown or weep if he needed, rather than hold his emotion in for the sake of social convention? But he'd looked so alone out here. Like he could use a friend. 

"Ruge liqueur's often served at feasts on Naboo," she went on--a dry topic, but safe. To keep him company. "There's an Alderaanian population in Keren. My home town," she added, and he nodded as if this was important information to take note of. "But you don't  _ seem  _ drunk. Or is that Jedi control?"

"Yes, that's what we spend our entire lives training for."

"A very practical application of your skillset."

"That reminds me of a time when Master Qui-Gon and I were on a mission on Mandalore." His eyes crinkled again as he turned to look out at the Plaza. At his use of Qui-Gon's name, Sabé felt an undercurrent of change between them, like a shift in the breeze. He was opening himself to her, even if only a little. "We found ourselves in a cantina that offered a truly vile starfire 'skee--"

"Isn't all starfire 'skee vile?"

"This particular brew contained what I’m fairly certain was reclaimed 'fresher water." His grin widened at Sabé's face and sound of disgust. "We'd been on the run from bounty hunters for the better part of a year, living hand-to-mouth, and Qui-Gon desperately wanted a drink. He'd already knocked back a few, and  _ seemed _ sober, while I felt the effects of just one. I asked how this could be, and Qui-Gon informed me that he wasn't drunk because he  _ chose  _ not to be. And so he had another."

"And?" Sabé asked, though she could guess where the story was going.

"I had the satisfaction of telling my Master that while he might not have chosen to be drunk, drunkenness certainly chose him. Not the wisest thing I might have said to a hungover Jedi."

At her laugh, Obi-Wan looked gratified, smiling as he returned his gaze to the view, while Sabé took the opportunity to study him. As his smile faded, she noticed that the lines remained etched faintly at the corners of his eyes. He was much too young for that--in his mid-twenties at most. It was as if he’d traded in his Padawan braid for the careworn look of a Jedi Knight.

Which was the answer to his earlier question: the handmaiden had sneaked off from the celebration because the Jedi, who was in no small way responsible for it, hadn't seemed truly a part of it. In fact she'd watched him all day, as closely as Anakin watched Padmé, noting his solemnity during the parade with the Gungans. 

"How long were you Qui-Gon's apprentice?" She dared to acknowledge the eopie in the room, since he'd opened up about his Master, praying she wasn't overstepping the mark. 

He answered readily. "From my adolescence."

"I could see you and he shared a very close bond. It must be something like losing a father."

This time Obi-Wan didn't reply at once, but kept his eyes fixed ahead, not on the landscape of Theed, but elsewhere, far away. One hand emerged from his sleeve to rub his index finger over his lip. As his silence lengthened, Sabé's anxiety swelled.  _ Kriff.  _ She looked away from him, face flaming. Jedi didn't have attachments. Certainly not in a familial sense.

They weren't supposed to show emotion, either, but when Obi-Wan finally spoke, his voice was thick. "It…is exactly like that. You are most astute."

Sabé had no doubt this was high praise indeed from a Jedi, but he sounded so broken that she'd rather not have received it.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I wish the price of Naboo's joy wasn't your sorrow. That your own achievement wasn't shadowed by loss."

Instinctively, she reached out to lay her hand in the crook of his elbow in a gesture of comfort and friendship. Her fingertips had scarcely brushed the coarse cloth of his robe when her eyes locked with his, and everything, within her and without, seemed to stop. The connection of it surpassed anything she'd ever shared with another person through physical touch. He felt it, too. Somehow, she knew that as clearly as if he'd spoken the words aloud, though he hadn't. Or maybe he had. It was difficult to be certain of anything except the sense of something profound passing between them.

How long they stood like that, she had no idea. Obi-Wan was the one to bring the moment to an end, rasping out a simple "Thank you" that jumpstarted her heart and lungs again. Not knowing what else to say or do, she pivoted away from him and this dangerous feeling that had stirred, mumbling about going back inside, only to be stopped again. Drawn back by his hands closing around hers, delicate and strong at the same time.  

"Sabé," he said, and she thought she'd be happy if she never heard any other sound but her name on his lips. "You called yourself  _ just  _ a handmaid. Don't sell yourself short. You did much more than wear the queen's clothes and imitate her speech. You  _ were _ the queen."

_ "Sabé." _

Not Obi-Wan's voice this time, resonating through her memory, or his hands squeezing hers, but Padmé's. Sabé felt as reluctant to return to the present as she had been to return to the feast. She didn't immediately respond to the queen, allowing herself to linger on the image of the young handmaiden and Jedi, who talked together as the sun dipped below the rooftops and the stars appeared by the sparkling dozen in the dusky violet sky, and tried to pretend that something profound had not happened between them.

Because nothing more ever could.  

When Sabé finally returned her attention to the queen, Padmé released her hand but continued to watch her curiously.

"You looked so far away just then," she said, linking arms to draw Sabé toward a seating area in front of the double doors. Padmé lowered herself onto the settee, and indicated for Sabé to sit beside her. "Is that the problem with Coruscant?"

The opposite, in fact. Coruscant was much too close. Sabé had made trips there with the queen over the years, of course. Each time she'd both hoped for and dreaded crossing paths with Obi-Wan, who would surely frequent the Jedi Temple a great deal, training Anakin. Mostly dreaded. If that connection still existed, what good would come of feeling it again, only to be inevitably parted? 

And that was only  _ if _ it existed. Why would it? It may not have been as significant for Obi-Wan as it had been for her, and he'd had eight years to  _ search his feelings _ and discard anything not in line with the Jedi Code. To discover that  _ this  _ was the case would be the worst of all. Her warring hope and dread had been almost unbearable even over such brief stays on Coruscant. A more permanent residence to guard a senator would only increase their chances of meeting again.

"I had been thinking of something much nearer to home," Sabé replied. "Maybe even in Keren. Make my mother happy, starting a family close by. She's been so lonely, since my father..."

"Of course," said Padmé. She didn't know how close her handmaiden had come a year ago to making her bereavement leave of absence permanent. And Sabé had not fully understood the depth of sorrow Obi-Wan had felt to lose his Master until then.

"You're ready to settle down?" the queen asked. "Is there…someone special?"

Although Sabé was fairly certain Padmé didn't entirely believe her, she didn't want to lie outright. Then again, there  _ wasn't,  _ not in the way Padmé meant it. You couldn't settle down and have a family with a Jedi, could you?

"I couldn't do what you require of me if I had a family." Sabé sidestepped the question. "And if I continue with you, I couldn't do what a family requires."

Now who sounded like a Jedi?

"Fair enough," said Padmé.

She rose from the settee, Sabé following suit, and padded across the tile to the wardrobe. Sweeping the doors open wide, she flicked through the court gowns and ceremonial robes, in seemingly every shade and fabric available in the galaxy. Splendid as Sabé thought the queen was, and proud of their culture, part of her would be relieved not to have to deal any longer with such fussy garments, and to have the freedom to dress more simply herself.

"If you  _ do  _ go to Keren," said the queen, considering a pale green robe with a wide purple sash and then putting it back, "Senator Organa may be able to find a job for you in the Alderaanian sector."

Sabé nodded. She hadn't considered this, but she would, if such a position were available.

"And then you'd have to keep in contact with me," Padmé added. Her smile began as a twinkle in her eyes, and then bloomed on her lips--and Sabé's.

"Of course I'll keep in contact with you. I suppose it would be a terrible breach of protocol to sign messages to Her Excellency the Senator with  _ hugs and kisses _ ?"

Padmé abandoned her wardrobe to pull her into a hug, and pressed her lips to both Sabé's cheeks, in approximately the same positions where she'd worn the twin red spots of makeup. She felt herself flush with emotion at the queen's affection and her words:

"I'm going to miss you terribly. Remember that if you ever change your mind, there's always a place for you in my house. As part of my family."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_19 BBY_

_THE QUEEN OF PEACE_ , read the holos on the morning of Padmé’s funeral. _GONE TODAY, LOVED ALWAYS_.

_A state funeral for Her Excellency, Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo, 27, will take place at dusk in the capital city of Theed. Thousands of Naboo mourners are expected to attend the procession to honor her memory and pay their respects to her surviving family members, father Ruwee Naberrie, mother Jobal, and sister Sola. Though six years have passed since she last served as queen, throughout her entire political career Amidala remained steadfast in her efforts to promote peace and equality throughout the galaxy. Because she protected her private life as fiercely as she fulfilled her duties of public service, news of Amidala’s death came as a shock to all: she died of complications while in the late stages of pregnancy.  She leaves no heir and, despite much public speculation on the matter, the father of her unborn child remains unknown._

There was, of course, no mention of the passing of a young Jedi Knight.

Obi-Wan wasn’t surprised, for he and Yoda had chosen not to report the death on Mustafar. With the Jedi numbers so diminished and popular opinion of them so poor, thanks to the self-appointed Emperor Palpatine’s accusations of treason, they dare not draw attention to the fact that the sole witness was another Jedi, who therefore must have killed him.

 _Well, Jedi were never meant to be mourned publicly_ , Obi-Wan thought, running a finger across his mustache. Qui-Gon’s death and private funeral strobed across his memory, only to be struck down by searing images of Anakin’s horrific final moments.

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand roughly over his face and looked back down at the datapad in his hand. The news holos, constantly updated today because of the state funeral, needed monitoring, and he didn’t have anything better to do while he waited. He blinked and tried to focus, reaching into the Force to quiet his mind.

It worked. In a sense. The clamor in his brain was quieter. He could ignore it if he chose to.

He didn’t exactly choose to.

Were Jedi meant to mourn? Presumably they could, but somehow Yoda’s grief, linear and proper and full of metaphysical understanding, didn’t look like Obi-Wan’s.

He lowered the datapad and raised his gaze, barely aware of the people that passed on either side of him like water around a stone in a river.

The sky over Theed’s Palace Plaza was now fading into what was probably a lovely shade of violet, had he the presence of mind to appreciate such a thing. He hadn’t slept in two days, and his thumb shook from too much caf as he switched the datapad off and pocketed it within the dark mourning cloak he wore. His lightsaber hung from its clip, as usual, but it, too, was hidden beneath the hooded cloak.

He couldn’t think about the other saber, the one he’d given to Yoda for safekeeping.

Blinking against the sting of tears, he lowered his gaze, focused on his feet. It felt odd to look down at shiny black boots tugged over trousers of the same hue as he began to move forward, shouldering gently through the gathering throng as he looked for a spot from which to watch, and disappear. But the black clothing matched his mood. And he’d promised Master Yoda he’d don civilian garb before putting himself at risk in such a large crowd. He and Yoda were the last of their kind now.

Something like a wince shuddered through him. The uncomfortable sensation struck him more times each day than he could count, pulling the corners of his lips downward and sometimes blurring his vision for minutes at a time while he ground his teeth and tried to listen to whatever Bail Organa or Yoda or the medical droid was saying to him on Polis Massa.

He listened best to the droid, he discovered with surprise; but there was a very good reason for that: Obi-Wan knew nothing about babies. And he needed to know everything. At least until they figured out what to do next.

It was almost a relief to be here, anonymous, just another no one in a city full of them, where his face beneath the black hood could frown and glare and weep, if he wished, for he hadn’t wept since—

The wince cut through him again, sharp and acrid as a saber.

He supposed he deserved that, and worse. Just as, perhaps, in some other reality, Anakin deserved to be here, walking in a place of honor alongside Padmé’s family.

A commotion beneath the Triumphal Arch caught his attention, and Obi-Wan walked briskly to meet it. His fingers twitched, and he had to remind himself not to reach for his weapon. As Yoda had grumbled more than once, he wasn’t supposed to be here, anyhow. _But someone should be_ , Obi-Wan had insisted.

A grizzled man stood on the makeshift stage of an upturned crate, surrounded by listeners and hecklers looking for distraction. With such blue eyes and blond hair, he might have been fair-skinned at one time; now his face was dirty and sun-damaged, his beard long and unkempt. His unbelted tunic and formal trousers were mismatched and filthy, and he waved his fists in the air as he shouted.

“That’s what they _want_ us to believe! Can’t you see? It’s all a plot by the Senate to distract us from what’s really happening out there!”

The man gestured vaguely at the sky dotted with starships before poking one dirty-nailed finger toward his onlookers, his gaze piercing and dangerous. Obi-Wan pressed into the crowd to get a better sense of the speaker, for sometimes the words of a madman contained kernels of wisdom.

And _something_ had wanted him on Naboo. Against Yoda’s wishes, he’d boarded Bail Organa’s _Sundered Heart_ . Bail would deliver Padmé’s body to the mortician for preparation while Obi-Wan awaited the funeral. For there were answers here, he knew it. Maybe with this man? He called on the Force to open his racing mind so that he could better _listen_.

“And it’s _your fault_ if you believe them,” the speaker went on, his grimy appearance at odds with the arch’s scrubbed white stones that framed him like a proscenium.  “Your fault if you’re not ready when the Empire comes for you! It’s all going to crash down on your heads and you’re standing here crying like a bunch of squalling babies! This isn’t her funeral.” His finger jabbed again. “It’s _yours_. You believe what they want you to.”

“What do they want us to believe, sir?” asked Obi-Wan.

The man narrowed his icy eyes as though they were the only two people in the plaza. “ _She’s not dead_ . Padmé Amidala. Someone kidnapped her and replaced her body with an imposter’s. She had _decoys_ when she was queen, don’t you remember?”

Obi-Wan nodded. One in particular had warmed his heart when he’d badly needed it. But when she’d touched him she’d sparked… _something_. Even now he still couldn’t quantify it. Something beyond her physical touch had beckoned and soothed him with such tantalizing promises.

Thankfully his path hadn’t crossed Sabé’s after that, and he’d tried not to examine that moment any further. It was an anomaly, a ripple in the current of his larger life. He told himself that again and refocused on the here and now.

“Decoys!” the man shouted to the crowd. “You’ll see. It’s one of _them_ lying there, sacrificed to the cause. It’s what they sign up for, and they know it. The cost is high. The Senate doesn’t care who it takes.” His voice lowered to a hiss. “It took _me_ , once. It was eight years ago…”

The fellow went on, sharing his psychotic delusion first with the black-clad Jedi, then turning his attention back to the rest of the crowd gathered around him, and Obi-Wan felt his fleeting hopes plummet once again.

How silly of him to have thought a madman might have the answers he sought. Perhaps someone ought to put _him_ in an asylum.

The man’s voice rose to a shriek, drawing the attention of every mourner in a wide radius. His hands flapped as though he could wave off the invisible threat like an Alderaanian flare-wing buzzing around his ears. “There’s an incomparable power out there and you don’t see it! None of you! It’s growing, it hates, it will never, ever stop. An evil greater than you can imagine…”

The funeral would begin soon, and this fellow would detract from the proper gravity of the procession unless someone put a stop to his ranting.

Obi-Wan approached, trying to ignore the sour stench of the man’s unwashed body, and raised a hand. He spoke so quietly that he doubted anyone but the man himself heard.

“ _You will be at peace._ ”

The man felt the nudge at once. He ceased his histrionics, closed his mouth, and blinked down at the crate beneath his shoeless, dirty feet. Then he sat down on it and wept like a child.

Obi-Wan wavered awkwardly, uncertain how to comfort him. His persuasion probably wouldn’t last for long, but if it quieted the man for the duration of Padmé’s funeral he would consider it a kindness to all. At length he placed a hand on his shaking shoulder and waved the rest of the crowd off, not bothering with the Force this time; now that the spectacle had concluded, people could find no reason to linger and filed away in singles and pairs.

After a time the man, red-nosed and sniffling, tucked his crate under one skinny arm, stood erect, and saluted as though he knew the Jedi was a general.

It was then that Obi-Wan noticed the Corellian Bloodstripe down each leg of the worn trousers.

He returned the salute and tried to muster a smile, uncertain whether he’d managed more than a grimace because of the sudden pang in his heart. The man loped off in the opposite direction of the crowd, which filled the space he left as though he’d never been there at all.

 _Everyone suffers_ , Obi-Wan reminded himself as he watched the man’s back vanish into the mass of people moving toward him. _I’m not special._

No, that was wrong, too. Even reminding himself of it meant that he was only focused on his own pain and not the greater good. He could almost hear Yoda’s voice now telling him, _Away put your self-pity_.

None of this was about him. Anakin had chosen his path, and nothing Obi-Wan could have done would’ve stopped him. It wasn’t his fault.

Except that it felt like it was.

Turning to make his way toward the bridge, he squeezed his eyes shut as another wince made him flinch. But then he jostled an old woman in front of him and had to catch her by the elbow when she stumbled. He smiled in apology as she cursed at him and doddered away, muttering about the inconsiderate young folks today.

For a split second, his lips quirked at being referred to as “young.” So many things were relative, age among them. Though he was a mere two years shy of forty, he doubted he’d ever feel young again.

After winding his way through the gathering crowd, Obi-Wan reached the northernmost bridge crossing  the Solleu River. Hundreds had already arrived, and a hush overhung them like a deadly fog. Everyone had donned their finest for the occasion, even the common workers and footsoldiers that perched upon the stone parapets like crows. Many mourners held candles. The procession would begin here and end at Theed’s Funeral Temple, with Padmé’s family and local dignitaries trailing the casket.

He located a spot in front of a clutch of Ankura Gungans, tugged down his hood to better obscure his face, and clasped his hands in front of his body.

Now all he had to do was wait. If his mind would allow it.

He closed his eyes and reached.

Hold on. _There_ . There was the _something_ , again. The thing that had crooked a finger at him, that had beckoned him to Naboo to _find_ the answer he sought. But where? Behind his shoulder? Across the way? He looked around at the silent, somber faces around him but could see no one he knew, no one who sought _him_.

His breath came in a shuddering gasp and he interlaced his fingers to stop their shaking. He needed to find his center, needed to come nearer to some sort of tranquility. Barring that, he needed sleep. Perhaps he should settle for sleep until a greater peace came to him.

If it ever did.

A wave of anger, startling in its abruptness, overtook him, followed quickly by shame. He pressed his lips together. Breathed. Closed his eyes again.

Obi-Wan reached once more into the very thing that had enraged him and, for the first time since he was a small child, it slipped away.

He fumbled after it for several long minutes, calling on every centering exercise that had ever worked before. He thought of the Corellian in the plaza. How easy it had been to utter those words, _You will be at peace_. But it was a trick, a lie, and somewhere deep in the man’s heart he knew it, too, but complied because he had no choice. Obi-Wan had given him no choice.

What wouldn’t he give for a mind trick right about now? To surrender to something greater than himself, if just for a while?

Movement to his left told him the procession had begun. In a contiguous wave the crowd stepped backward, closer to the parapets, to allow the passage of the casket, pulled by four snow-white gualaar in regal tack. Obi-Wan drew himself up and tried to steel himself for the sight of Padmé’s body, prepared by the mortician Commodex Tahn, who’d agreed to make it appear as though she were still pregnant.

A sudden frisson shivered over his entire body, and then--

 **_Wake up_ ** , the Force whispered without words.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed wide. He looked across the thoroughfare, where somehow he knew the answer waited.

Sabé. Padmé’s handmaiden. The one he’d--

No. An anomaly. A ripple. He was human, after all, there would be feelings, of course there would be, and they’d done nothing. He’d done nothing.

But here she was, and that was--that was-- _something_.

Unlike the other mourners, she wore an orange flight suit, blaster at her hip, as if she’d just arrived from off-planet. Even across the distance he could see her chest heaving and cheeks pink as though she’d sprinted all the way here from the hangar. Well, she was a spy for the Rebellion now, Padmé had informed him; naturally she would travel a lot. Where had she come from? Was she in danger? Would she need to leave soon?

Stop. There was no need to wonder, or speculate. Her life was hers, and his could not intersect. Even if...even though...

“Kriff,” he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, they connected with Sabé’s widening eyes across the way--just before the team of gualaar stepped in front of him and blocked his view.

But the instant their gazes met, the _something_ became tangible again, as real as it had felt the last time they’d spoken on the palace balcony. Obi-Wan’s heart thudded with a strange insistence, even as his hands stopped shaking and fell to his sides. He couldn’t see her now, not while the huge gualaar slowly drew the casket across the bridge.

He blinked as it came into view. There was Padmé’s body, her hands holding the amulet, resting so still and protectively over her abdomen, her lovely face serene, finally, in death.

An imposter, the man had told him. A decoy.

Obi-Wan had a mad thought that the real queen was alive, steps away from him dressed in a flight suit. An overwhelming impulse to laugh took root in his gut, and he had to press his fingernails hard into the skin of his palms to tamp it down.

No, he  knew what Sabé was. And what he was.

 _You_ were _the queen_ , he’d said.

 _And a Jedi has no business flirting with royalty_ , he’d told himself.

He barely saw the entourage following the casket. Padmé’s stoic family, eyes downcast but heads held high. Jar Jar Binks, looking as despondent as he was likely ever to see him. A somber Boss Nass. The young Queen Apailana, drifting along like a tiny silver ghost, a painted grey teardrop running down each white cheek.

The throng of commoners and highborn alike, carrying candles and shuffling slowly, followed the dignitaries after they passed. A scent of exotic incense drifted toward him as holymen and women, clad in purple, passed nearby.

Obi-Wan stood transfixed, staring across the mourners’ heads to where he’d last seen Sabé.

But she was gone. An apparition. A ripple in the Force. Had he imagined her? Was he that exhausted and distraught?

He rotated, looking up and down the thoroughfare, while his heart’s pounding turned desperate. He threw back his hood and cursed.

A tap on his shoulder brought him whirling about.

There Sabé stood, tall and lithe, with tears shining in her eyes and mussed hair stuck with sweat to her forehead and neck, still breathing deeply from her run here. Her flushed cheeks looked lovelier than the painted ones she’d worn as queen ever had.

“Sabé,” said Obi-Wan. His fingers twitched.

At the sound of her name, Sabé’s head tilted and her brows drew together.

Her lips parted.

He cleared his throat, feeling his own brow furrow. “It’s--it’s lovely to see you--”

“Shh!” Her hand rose abruptly to cut off his blathering. Then it reached out and grasped the front of his dark cloak, pulling him to her.

Her embrace was so unexpected and firm that his arms immediately went around her narrow waist. She pressed her cheek to his, nuzzling close. He felt her tears on his own face and in his beard, felt her body racked with silent sobs as she shook against him.

And without giving his head permission it fell to her neck, and soon his own tears mingled with the salt of her skin and hair, and they held each other up for a long, long while as everyone else passed around them as if they were spirits.

~*~

Watched doors never opened--wasn't that a saying? Yet Obi-Wan couldn't take his eyes off the refresher door Sabé had disappeared through almost the moment they set foot inside the cantina.

It wasn't for lack of patience for her to come out so much as lack of belief that she really was in there.

That she was _here_.

Not _here_ as in The Shaky Shaak, but _here_ , _with him_. Of course she was. From the moment their eyes locked across the crowded street he'd felt Sabé, that old connection opening up between once again. If it had ever been fully closed. He felt her now.

Why, then, this fear that it was all some trick of a mind gone mad with grief? That the door would open and some other woman would step through, a stranger? That he would find that he truly was alone in the world?

Why did his hands tremble with it?

The Shaky Shaak was an apt location.

He rubbed his palms over the fabric of his black cloak to steady them. Drew long, deliberate breaths. Dragged his eyes from the 'fresher door with its peeling paint and greasy handprint stains. Every other surface of the cantina seemed to consist of more of the same, including the corner table where he currently sat, the holocard menus, and the durasteel cup he didn't remember anyone bringing.

He _did_ remember Sabé ordering it for him. _Get this man Alderaan ruge liqueur, if you've got it_ , she'd barked to the waitdroid on her way to the 'fresher. Gingerly, Obi-Wan picked up the not entirely clean cup. He sniffed, identified by the sweet aroma that it was, indeed, ruge, if not a high quality one, and drank.

As it rolled down his dry, tight throat, he remembered something else, from much longer ago than entering the cantina. Years ago. A decade. More. _Ruge liqueur's often served at feasts on Naboo. There's an Alderaanian population in Keren…_ Had Sabé remembered his drink of choice that night? Or was it merely a coincidence?

Obi-Wan's gaze had returned to the 'fresher door. He moved it again, this time to the clientele that filled the other tables and the bar. Humans mostly, a few Gungans interspersed. No one hunched over hands of sabaac or pazaak as one expected to see at such establishments, or watched the bandstand, which was empty. Instead, they stared quietly up at the glitchy holovision over the bar, watching footage from the funeral. Obi-Wan certainly didn't let his gaze linger _there_.

Nursing his drink, he studied the people again. Laborers, from the look of them, their garb suited to the cantina's shabby, unctuous interior. Not the class of Naboo he was accustomed to seeing on his prior missions to Theed. Of course the city wasn't all splendor. It had an underbelly, like they all did.

Perhaps after everything, his senses were more attuned to all that was unclean and ugly in the galaxy.

He searched his memory for other images of this unfamiliar part of town. Sabé must have taken him through dark narrow streets to bring him here, but he remembered nothing about the route they'd taken from the funeral temple, or how long they'd walked. Only that after their long embrace she'd taken his hand firmly in hers, leading him by it as if he were a lost child.

A woman's long, slender fingers entered his field of vision, grasping the back of the chair opposite to pull it out from the table. Obi-Wan followed the hand upward, over the wrist along the bared forearm to the orange sleeve rolled at the elbow. Then his eyes were on Sabé's face as she plopped down onto the chair with a sigh.

The door had opened when he wasn't looking.

"Sorry for the vanishing act," she said. "I thought I'd try not to look quite so much like I flew for two days straight, sprinted across Theed, and then cried my heart out."

Her conversation was welcome, but Obi-Wan found himself entirely unable to respond in kind. His brain lagged a few steps behind as he compared her remarks on her appearance to his own observations. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but no longer swollen, as his felt. Nor was her face blotchy from crying, but glowing as though freshly scrubbed. She'd tidied her hair, pulling it into three small knots at the back of her head. The style made her look more like the young woman he'd known in the palace, despite the flight suit she wore now. He pictured her in a handmaiden's hooded gown in gradations of orange reminiscent of the sunset.

He took another drink of ruge, and his powers of speech returned. "You are a sight for very sore eyes."

Sabé held his gaze for a heartbeat before her eyes dropped to her menu, giving him an opportunity to observe her. She must be around thirty now? He remembered being surprised, after her true identity was revealed, that she was a young woman, not teenaged like the queen. Obi-Wan thought he saw the pink of a blush across her cheeks, though it was difficult to say in the cantina's dim light. Warmth flared into him through their connection. Or was that the alcohol?

"Unfortunately there wasn't much I could do about how I smell," Sabé said. She kept her eyes downcast, scanning the menu. Her nose wrinkled. "On the other hand, the stench in here may overpower it."

Worried he'd made her self-conscious, Obi-Wan withdrew his gaze from her face to take another glance around the cantina.

"The Shaky Shaak is certainly…" He cast about for the appropriate descriptor.

"Unhygienic?"

Obi-Wan felt a twinge in his cheek, almost like the beginnings of a smile. "I was going to say, not the sort of place we need to worry about being recognized."

Sabé didn't reply. The warmth of their connection seemed to cool by several degrees as he watched the subtlest of shifts of emotion play beneath her skin. Her jaw tightened, as though she were physically biting back the fear that was so palpable. Fear of what? In his mind loomed the madman from the plaza. Had Sabé seen him? More importantly, had he seen Sabé? After they'd rejoined the funeral procession, she'd left his side only briefly. Intending to express her condolences to the Naberries, she pressed through the crowd only to change her mind when Padmé's mother saw her approach and went pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

Her eyes fixed on something over Obi-Wan's shoulder. He thought of the saber beneath his cloak, though Sabé made no movement for her blaster. Keeping his hand curled around his cup, he turned to see whatever--or _whom_ ever--had captured her attention.

Only a waitdroid. It rolled up to the table, beeping a question about their orders.

"Shaakburger with Byss cheese," said Sabé. "Very well done." She raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "I wouldn't trust anything cooked less than that, in here. The whole time I was in the 'fresher I was afraid a dianoga would crawl out of the toilet."

A rapid succession of staccato beeps indicated the droid had taken offense to this.

"And a large order of fried protato wedges," Sabé added in a conciliatory tone. "Unless you'd prefer real potatoes?" she asked Obi-Wan.

He shrugged. The droid beeped that they only had the synthetic protein ones.

"To drink I'll have a…" She flipped the holocard over to scan the drinks list on the back. "…Noonian Fixer."

That was a hard drink, Obi-Wan thought. For a hard day. The waitdroid swiveled toward him.

"Another Alderaan ruge, please."

_Beep?_

"Nothing to eat, thank you."

The droid took his empty cup and rolled back to the bar.

"I haven't eaten in two days," Sabé said, almost apologetically, or as if she were embarrassed for ordering a meal when her companion had not. "Well, rations on my shuttle. No proper food."

Neither had Obi-Wan. At least not that he was aware of. He didn't feel hungry, so perhaps he'd had something on Polis Massa. It had all been such a blur since Mustafar. Since Coruscant. Heartbreak after heartbreak…

"Obi-Wan?"

He felt her voice as well as heard it, a gentle tug outward. Where his focus ought to be anyway.

"Forgive me," he said. "I've found it difficult these last days not to allow emotion to get the better of me."

"If anyone should apologize for that, it's me."

Why in the world did Sabé feel she needed to apologize? She watched her thumbnail pick at the chipped edge of the table. The self-conscious smile returned to her lips.

"For tackling you in the street."

 _Oh._ "You didn't _tackle_ me…"

"What would you call it, then?"

He wanted to take her hand, but hesitated. But _she_ hadn't hesitated to take his at the funeral, and he reached across the table to brush the tips of his fingers over her knuckles. Her chest rose beneath her flight suit with her sharp indrawn breath.

"Nothing that requires an apology," he replied. "Seeing you was…" His words trailed off as Sabé raised her eyes from their hands. Dark and deep and shining with tears. For a moment he was lost in them. " _Is_..."

The waitdroid returned with their drinks, beeped that Sabé's food would be out shortly, and left them again. Obi-Wan tried to remember the abandoned thread of their conversation as he watched her take a sip of her Noonian Fixer and cringe. She took another, larger swig, and set her cup down.

"Seeing you was like seeing a ghost," she said. "Order 66 was all over the holos…"

Obi-Wan sucked in a painful breath as the wince shocked through him, accompanied by lightning flashes of memory. The burning temple. The small, still bodies left in _Lord Vader_ 's wake. He saw his own horror reflected on her face as she recalled the images from the news and what she'd believed to be _his_ fate.

"We don't have to talk about this," said Sabé.

With a shake of his head he replied, "It doesn't help to ignore what happened."

 _It might have helped to order a stronger drink, though_ , he thought as he drank his ruge and Sabé continued.

"I hoped since there was no news about High Jedi General Kenobi like there was about some of the others that it might mean you'd escaped, but…"

"They wouldn't have reported it like that anyway. Given public opinion of our role in the Clone Wars."

Something flashed in Sabé's eyes, a meteorite ripping through the night sky. Her jaw muscle flexed, and through clenched teeth she ground out, "Not everyone in the galaxy believes Palpatine's bantha fodder that the Jedi were failures and traitors to the Republic."

He appreciated her support--and the vehemence with which she offered it. But the truth remained that Anakin _had_ betrayed them.

Obi-Wan had failed them.

Not only the Jedi, but every person in the galaxy they were meant to protect.

Given the emotional tone inside this dump, he had to believe that cantinas across the planet were uncharacteristically somber tonight as the Naboo mourned their believed Queen Amidala and murmured fearfully about the holo reports of the rising Galactic Empire and the fall of Democracy.

And on Polis Massa, the only certainty for a pair of newborn twins was that they would never know their parents' love.

The food arrived. Obi-Wan hoarsely asked the waitdroid for a Retox. Sabé, tucking into her shaakburger, nudged the plate toward him. It was piled high with fried protato wedges, a few of which spilled off onto the table.

"I won't be able to eat all of this," she said between bites, "so help yourself."

Obi-Wan eyed the food as he swallowed the last of his ruge. He doubted he could choke anything down.

"It's all very well to choose not to be drunk," Sabé said, "but wouldn't it be wise not to put that to the test on an empty stomach?"

She remembered. All these years later--thirteen--and Sabé remembered a story he'd told her about Qui-Gon when she'd offered comfort after his master's death. When she hadn't seemed to think twice about whether a Jedi required comfort, but offered instinctively it as she would to anyone.

This thought, more than any of Obi-Wan's attempts up till now to draw on the Force, calmed his inner tempest. He blinked, and the tears that had hung in his eyes did not well again. He breathed, and found that, for the moment, the wince in his chest dulled to something less acute.

The taut lines of his face relaxed, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

"You have a talent for making me smile when I'm at my lowest, Sabé."

"I hope someday I'll have a chance to make you smile when you're not."

Obi-Wan tried a protato wedge, mostly to oblige her, and it went down much more easily than he'd expected. He had another, and another, and soon couldn't stop himself. Before he knew it she'd halved her shaakburger with him and they ordered more food to share, along with their grief.

"It would appear I'm hungrier than I realized," he said. He wiped his fingertips across his mustache in case there were any crumbs; it would be too much, he supposed, to hope there were napkins in this place. A sudden thought occurred. "Two days, you said?

Mouth full, Sabé nodded.

"Were you on your way to Naboo already, then? You couldn't have known, the news didn't break until--"

"She sent me a message."

Obi-Wan's brows shot up high on his forehead. "She…" He sank against the ladder back of his chair, which rocked on its uneven legs. He rubbed his hand across his mustache again. "What did she say?"

Sabé's eyes welled, and her chin quivered.

" _Help me_ ," she choked out. Obi-Wan's throat knotted in response. "She asked me to help her, and I abandoned my assignment to come straight here." Tears slid down her cheeks, and she swiped them away, sniffled. "Of course by the time I arrived I was just in time to attend her funeral."

He pictured her tearing off her helmet and vest, leaping from her shuttle and running through the city. How far was that? A mile? Two? It was little wonder she'd thrown her arms around him. Yet she'd held him up when he thought he couldn't stand.

"Had you been in contact with her?" Obi-Wan asked. "Did she tell you about…?"

"Her pregnancy? Yes, thankfully I didn't find out about that from the gossip holos." Sabé frowned down at her plate, ripples of thoughts wrinkling her forehead. "My guess as to the father is as good as anyone else's. It worried me. Padmé always kept her personal life private, but it wasn't like her to hide from those closest to her."

Feeling a flicker of guilt for the knowledge he carried and held back from her, Obi-Wan watched her drag one of the remaining protato wedges through a blob of sauce on her plate.

"That was another reason I was sure you hadn't survived the massacre," Sabé went on as she chewed. "You and Anakin Skywalker always protected her in the past, so if she needed _me_ …"

"Anakin is dead."

Sabé stopped chewing and stared, round-eyed in surprise. Clearly, she hadn't considered the fates of _every_ Jedi in her acquaintance after Order 66. He recalled experiencing a similar myopia, a rush of relief that an assassination attempt on Padmé hadn't resulted in Sabé's death, and only a distant, belated realization that he hadn't spared a thought for the other handmaiden who laid down her life for the senator.

"Your Padawan..." Sabé said. "Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."

She'd offered the same simple words of sympathy after Qui-Gon's death. Observed him with the keen gaze that perceived Obi-Wan had regarded his master as a father. Now the entire Jedi Order was gone. Fathers, mothers, sisters…

 _Brothers._  

It never crossed her mind that Anakin Skywalker was not another victim of Order 66.

No. He balled his fingers into a fist in his lap. He must not allow his thoughts to wander down that path. Keep to the present course, he reminded himself, reaching for his drink and the threads of his conversation with the woman who was suffering so bravely across from him.

"She must have contacted you after I left her apartment," he mused.

"You mean you were with her? On Coruscant?"

Confusion etched itself across Sabé's brow. How could she _not_ be confused, with only a desperate plea from Padmé, the false information from the holos, and the scraps he'd given her to try and piece together the fate of her mistress? She deserved answers, but a crowded cantina wasn't the safest place to give them.

Another emotion lurked behind the confusion, one he couldn't identify, in the tense flickers at her jawline. Accusation, perhaps. He was with Padmé…but she'd died anyway.

He passed his hand over his face, the edge of the table boring into his forearm as he slumped forward.

"I failed her."

If only he'd been able to learn Anakin's whereabouts without alerting Padmé of his intent. If only he'd been able to stop her going anywhere near that hell, instead of secreting away like a smuggler and letting her take him to Mustafar.

As he struggled to get a grip on himself, which had been difficult enough before the ruge and the Retox loosened his already unraveled mind further, he heard the scrape of chair legs on the duracrete floor. The scuff of boots. A thump as Sabé dropped to her knees beside his chair, heedless of crumbs and sticky residue of spilled drinks.

"No." She grasped the hand that lay in his lap in both her own. Her fingers prised his free of the cloak crumpled between them. "I can't believe you wouldn't have done any less than all you could for her."

At the squeeze of her fingers on his hand, the storm of sorrow abated as if she'd called it back. He lowered his hand from his face, laying it on the table. The backs of his fingers brushed the steel cup that held what remained of his Retox, and though he wanted to swallow down the last of it, that was probably unwise given his near emotional outburst. Nudging it away, he looked at Sabé, who'd kept hold of his hand, and attempted to smile to show her he was all right. Whether he succeeded or not was dubious. Her face remained drawn.

"Were you with her when she died?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted, miserably, but her face was awash with relief.

"Thank the stars she wasn't alone." Her grip on his hand tightened. "And that you're alive. There's hope. I'd all but given up."

Her words touched him deeply, but he feared her faith in him was as misplaced as his had been in Anakin.

"I'm at an utter loss,” he admitted. "I can see no way forward. I came to Naboo in search of someone who could guide me, though Master Yoda advised against it. He thought I was being reckless with my life, but I couldn't deny what I sensed lay here."

Obi-Wan paused. Looked into the brown eyes that rested so steadily on him, and felt that wordless assurance whisper through him again. **_Yes._ **

"I found you, Sabé."

The warmth of her breath made him aware that at some point as he said this, he'd leaned in toward her, his face very close to hers. His gaze dropped to the source of that breath, her lips hung slightly parted, the air escaping through the opening in soft quick puffs. He darted his eyes back up again and saw that hers were fixed somewhat lower down on his face, too. His pulse beat against the pad of her thumb, which she pressed between the veins at his wrist.

Head spinning--he'd definitely had too much to drink--he straightened up.

Sabé withdrew her hands, reaching back to adjust one of the loops of her hair.

"I don't know what I can guide you to," she said. "Apart from potential food poisoning."

The Shaky Shaak brightened suddenly. They, along with the other patrons swiveling around in chairs and on barstools, turned their heads toward the light source: the spotlight above the bandstand. A man plugged a synth-viol into an amplifier, while a woman tapped the microphone to test it. The musicians, like everyone else save Sabé, dressed in dark clothes for mourning--or simply because they were artists.  The woman's auburn hair was coiled over her ears as Padmé often wore hers. They looked young, younger than Sabé, perhaps closer to Anakin's age. As the man tuned the viol, the woman announced that they would perform a few traditional Nabooian songs, but first, a new tune written in honor of the beloved Queen Amidala. "It's called 'Queen of Peace'," she said.

Obi-Wan turned back to Sabé. "There is hope. But not because I lived."

He waited until the viol player bowed the opening bars of the song, the electrified strings resonant and wailing, and the singer crooned into the microphone.

"Padmé's children did not die with her."

He watched her process this. Process _children_ , plural, not the assumed singular. She blinked, and the hazy confusion vanished, leaving her clear-eyed. Then Sabé unfolded from her crouch and stood to full height, certain of her way forward.

"Take me to them."

=====

  _ **A/N: Chapter 3 will be posted on Sunday, November 13.  
**_


	3. Chapter 3

“ _APAILANA_ ,” Obi-Wan read aloud from the morning holos, “ _HALTS CREMATION_.”

“Just a moment, Obi-Wan,” said Sabé as she turned, Luke in her arms, toward the Polis Massa medic droid who trailed her through the nursery as though she were about to drop the newborn. “What are your protective settings?”

“I do not understand,” it replied in a velvety metallic voice.

“Your settings that tell you when to hover over these two infant humans.”

“I offer comprehensive care each standard day without interruption--”

“Thank you,” she said. She jerked her head toward the opposite wall. “You are relieved until I say otherwise. Go wait in the corner.”

“Very good,” the droid replied as it drifted away. "There is a holovision screen," it added, "if you prefer to watch the news."

"We don't," Sabé said, and without further comment the droid shut itself down, photoreceptors going dark.

A glint of amusement lit Obi-Wan’s eyes as he looked on. “Shall I continue, or was that a subtle hint?”

“Please,” she sighed, shifting the infant to her other arm to quiet him. "I'd rather hear you than those HoloNet reporters."

Luke was fussy, flailing his little arms and vocalizing softly but constantly. In her crib, Leia was louder; it sounded almost as if she were growling, and every so often a soft _thump_ announced that she’d just beat her fists against the cushion again. Sabé bounced Luke up and down gently against her shoulder as she hummed into his forehead.

Obi-Wan watched them for a moment, then cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at the datapad in his hand, resting one long arm across the back of the single visitors’ couch in the otherwise sterile nursery. “ _In a stunning breach of custom, Queen Apailana of Naboo has delayed Padmé Amidala's last rites, pending a formal investigation into the late senator's death. This decision came after Emperor Palpatine challenged initial reports that Amidala died of pregnancy complications."_

He stroked his beard. “We need to get word to Bail Organa. An autopsy _cannot_ go forward, or else they'll know Padmé was not, in fact, still pregnant when she died."

"Yes," said Sabé, "though I imagine he's already on it."  She kissed the top of Luke’s head, inhaling his sweet scent as a pang of horror struck her. “How Padmé’s family must suffer. All they want is for their daughter to be at peace. If the dead aren't cremated within two days, their life force can't return to the earth.”

Her thoughts turned to standing beside her mother at the Temple of Varum, together scattering her father's ashes into the lake, then alone as she sent her mother's out to join his. Her tears had flowed freely even as her heart swelled at the knowledge that a physical part of them would always remain there, flowing eternally.

“Is that how it works on Naboo?” Obi-Wan lowered the datapad to his lap and brought his gaze back to Sabé.

His face still looked as careworn as it had last night, with purple circles darkening the fair skin under his eyes, and his hair, finger-combed, hanging lank over his eyes; but his hands no longer shook the way they had at the Shaky Shaak. He'd slept a little on the flight from Naboo. A _very_ little, for every time he’d dozed off he would soon jerk awake in the co-pilot's seat with an unintelligible shout--or worse, what sounded like a _plea--_ drenched in sweat and staring straight ahead with trembling hands raised as though a demon sat on his chest. But it was more sleep than he'd had in several days, she gathered, and she was glad he felt safe enough with her to let his guard down.

“Perhaps Padmé’s life force will return to the earth regardless,” he said. “I never knew  anything in life to stop her, and I wouldn’t expect death to be much deterrent, either.”

Sabé laughed and was about to agree when sudden tears prickled her eyes again. She swiped at them with the sleeve of the decidedly rank flight suit she still wore, pacing over to Leia so that her back faced Obi-Wan while she tried to  to shake off the irrational fear that somehow he might read her thoughts on her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost too quietly to hear; perhaps he’d read them anyway. “She was your friend.”

Sabé nodded miserably and tried to focus on Leia’s smooth cheeks, her slate-colored eyes a shade darker than Luke’s, the tiny hands curled into fists above the swaddling fabric.

 _But who was she to_ you _?_ she couldn’t help thinking. Such selfish thoughts, and at the most inappropriate time.

But the babies were blonde and blue-eyed. She knew their hair and eye color might change as they grew, and she chastised herself for ignoring this very real physical fact of life--their father could have been _anyone_ , she knew that--but her heart squeezed painfully at the thought that Obi-Wan and Padmé might have...could have…

He’d been with her when she died, during childbirth. Why else would he have been there?

Kriff, Sabé had lovers in the thirteen years since they’d shared that strange moment on the palace balcony. Surely he had, too, despite what everyone said about the supposed purity of the Jedi. And why shouldn’t he?

But with Padmé…

“Is there more to that holo?” she managed, still not looking at him.

A rustle told her that he’d shifted on the couch. She turned to face him again and was struck once more by how defeated he looked, sitting with elbows on knees, the uplight of the datapad illuminating every line and angle of his face. And black didn’t suit him at all.

“ _After two days’ silence in honor of Amidala’s memory_ ,” Obi-Wan read, then scoffed in disbelief before continuing, “ _Emperor Palpatine released a statement that he believed the late senator was murdered by rogue Jedi. The claim seems all too likely as rumors regarding Jedi incompetence during the Clone Wars and suspicion about their true loyalties swell..._.” Obi-Wan raked a hand through his hair and huffed, gesturing toward the screen. “This is--”

Leia wailed.

“Stop,” said Sabé. She crossed to stand in front of Obi-Wan and bent down, offering the swaddled Luke to him. “Here.”

His eyes flickered up to hers. She raised her eyebrows.

“Erm, I--shall I--”

“Hold him.” She thrust Luke at Obi-Wan so that he had no choice but to toss the datapad aside to accept the struggling infant. While he awkwardly adjusted his position to cradle Luke’s head more comfortably, she strode back to Leia’s crib--why were there _two_ kriffing cribs?--and picked up the screaming girl. She slid the datapad to the edge of the grey couch and sat down next to him, shushing the baby as she ran a hand over the back of her smooth little head.

The twins’ nursery on Polis Massa was like every other space she’d seen when they’d arrived this morning: chrome and grey, with the metallic buzzing of droids. Thank goodness for the colorful blinking lights that ran along the unadorned walls of the room, for the Maker knew there were no such things as playful mobiles or plush toys to be found in this ascetic place.

Obi-Wan had brought her directly here as soon as she’d docked her starship. The droid had just finished feeding the twins and had floated away to place the glass bottles in a slot that would deliver them for cleaning, and she’d stood with hands limp at her sides as she stared at the babies.

Padmé’s children.

Sabé's body had shaken with unshed tears, and she’d reached to her side until she found Obi-Wan’s shoulder, which she gripped as though it could somehow replenish her diminishing strength. After a moment his warm hand had covered hers, the tears had rolled down her cheeks, and she’d wiped them away again and again as they looked together at the twins until she'd recovered enough to pick up Leia, the picture of Padmé as an infant, she was sure of it.

But what about Luke? Did he resemble Obi-Wan? Sabé pressed her lips together as she compared their faces now--was that a dimple in Luke’s chin?--then squeezed her eyes shut in self-reproach. This was ridiculous. Newborns didn’t resemble their parents, not for a while, she reminded herself.

And then there was the matter of how Obi-Wan held the infant. True, no new father knew much about holding babies until he’d done it for a day or two. But it’d been two days now and Obi-Wan still flushed and shifted as though he weren’t quite sure how to cuddle this squirming little newborn.

Was this the first time he’d held one?

Perhaps she should ask, but she couldn’t think of a delicate way to approach the topic. Well, if there was anything she’d learned during her time as Padmé’s decoy, it was that there was always a way to wheedle information out of anyone. One just had to know which door to knock on.

“I’ve always wondered,” she began, “about your master, Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows.

Encouraged, she went on. “When you were his Padawan, he must have been in his forties? Fifties?”

“He was sixty when he died,” he said.

Now Sabé felt her own eyebrows rise, but in surprise. “He looked younger.”

Obi-Wan grinned, remembering. “He had a youthful spirit. He...did things his own way, and wasn’t bothered if it displeased others.”

“That’s a gift,” nodded Sabé.

“I suppose it was,” Obi-Wan agreed. While he talked, his hand found the back of Luke’s head and stroked it.

Seeing the action, Sabe smiled. “Which leads me to my question. A man that age must have had...companions. If you understand my meaning.”

Obi-Wan blushed, and Sabé thought she’d never seen anything more attractive.

She pressed on. “Well? Are you going to satisfy my curiosity?”

“He did have...companions...from time to time,” Obi-Wan admitted, the pink creeping higher on his cheeks. “Probably more than even I knew about. He was discreet.”

“I’m sure he was,” Sabé nodded solemnly. “I hope he shared some of his views on companionship with his Padawan. Given, of course,” she added quickly, “that many other Masters might not have shared his opinion that a Jedi could or should enjoy...companionship.”

A flush warmed her own cheeks. She was starting to feel rather transparent, and stupid for having chosen such a euphemism as “companion,” but there was no backpedaling now.

But Obi-Wan, preoccupied with his own flushing face, most likely, wasn’t looking at her. His eyes travelled around the room, following the blinking lights and coming to rest on the closed door, which he was probably wishing he could bolt through at this very moment.

He cleared his throat and swallowed, then brought his gaze deliberately back to Sabé’s. Though he continued to blush he answered her question. “When he felt I was old enough, Qui-Gon suggested that I read about  human relations. He even encouraged me to pursue a woman, if I desired. He told me about what...preventative measures I ought to take in the the event of...of--”

Now Obi-Wan’s squirming rivaled the infant’s in his arms. Sabé spoke quickly to cover his embarrassment. “That’s how it was at the academy. Better to be armed and prepared, they always said.” Her bark of nervous laughter made her want to roll her eyes at herself.

But to her surprise, after clearing his throat again, he went on. “The point being, Qui-Gon felt it necessary that I know what I might be giving up, should I commit to a life like his. Or rather, life as a Jedi. I don’t think anyone would call him a typical Jedi.”

Now Sabé felt her own flush deepening. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to decide how best to proceed; but with his eyes burning into her, all thought seemed to have flown from her mind. How, all these years later, could she still feel that indescribable _pull_ to him that she felt even now?

“Are you the twins’ father?” she blurted out.

Obi-Wan stared at her, speechless for a moment, blinking. His eyebrows drew together and quivered in confusion while his brain pieced together the words she’d just uttered. Then he laughed, long and loud. Luke, apparently startled enough to stop his fussing, followed Obi-Wan’s chin as it tilted back.

Even though she was ready to crawl into a sarlaac pit and die of embarrassment over a thousand years, she couldn’t help appreciating Obi-Wan’s perfectly imperfect teeth. She’d forgotten how much she loved his smile. A grunt at her chest told her that she was holding Leia too tightly, and she shifted the baby, trying to steady her own breathing and quiet the thudding of her heart.

“No. I’m not,” he said at length, still chuckling, “although it would probably make things simpler if I were.” Then, as he exhaled, the invisible weight settled upon his shoulders again. He looked down at Luke and frowned as though he saw something that unnerved him.

A profound relief flooded Sabé’s chest, accompanied by a stab of shame for desiring such a claim to him. For wanting the right to be jealous.

“Well, that’s--that’s--” She grimaced. How could that sentence possibly end politely? “I mean to say, who is it? Where is he?” The holos of course had speculated, and many men had come forward claiming to be Padmé’s lover, but she had neither confirmed nor denied any of the gossip.

Obi-Wan leveled his gaze at her again. There was a shudder as he inhaled to reply.

“Anakin was the father,” he said. A wince flickered across his features.

Sabé blinked. “Little Ani?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“I suppose he did grow up,” she said slowly. “But I still picture him as a kid. I can’t imagine Padmé…”

She shook her head, reeling. Anakin Skywalker. When she’d met him he’d just been Ani.

Fair-haired, blue-eyed Ani.

A dozen queries bloomed on her lips, none of which seemed appropriate, and she brought her attention to the newborn in her arms while she sifted through them. Had Obi-Wan taught his Padawan Qui-Gon’s views about sex? Had Padmé’s relationship with Anakin been a fling, or something more meaningful? Or had she merely decided it was time to bear children and reached for the closest friend to achieve that end? Had Padmé told Anakin she was pregnant?

All of these questions seemed too intimate, and so she made what she thought was the safest comment. “It must comfort you to know that Anakin’s line will continue in Luke and Leia--”

“I killed him.”

With his choked confession, something in Sabé’s ribcage fluttered and fled. A demon on his chest, indeed. What had happened? Had Anakin betrayed the Jedi? Padmé? Her desperate message played over in Sabé’s mind: _Help me_. Had she needed help getting away from Anakin? Her lover, the father of her children?

Had Anakin killed Padmé--the rogue Jedi Palpatine accused?

Whatever the reason, no wonder Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep without nightmares. They were like brothers.

Feeling as though she'd been kicked in the chest, she looked quickly into his face and found that his eyes had locked onto hers as though she were a safe and distant port in a solar storm. The air grew still and silent, seeming to compress the space between them and bring them closer. His eyes, which had contained such spark when she’d first met him, now flinched with grief, even more so than when Qui-Gon had died...and now she knew why.

Sabé felt a selfish, petty fool for prying.

Shifting Leia to one arm, she reached out and brushed her fingers across his wrinkled black shirt, then pressed her hand firmly against his chest, over his heart, beneath which  Luke now slept peacefully.

"You don't have to explain," she said. "Not till you're ready."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sighed.

With a soft _whoosh_ , the nursery door slid open and a small robed figure waddled in. He was green.

Obi-Wan and Sabé stood as one, cradling the infants protectively in their arms as if they’d been caught trying to steal them.

“No longer necessary are introductions?” the creature croaked.

 ~*~

 

Yoda blinked at Sabé down the length of an expansive table in yet another dark, sterile room of the Polis Massa Medical Facility. Some sort of staff conference room, if she had to guess, although it could also be a lounge. She couldn't imagine taking a break here, having lunch, relaxing, not in this chair that made her sit up too straight, its gleaming arms so cold she'd had to roll down the sleeves of her flight suit. Though this room could be one within any of the government buildings she’d frequented during her work with the Rebellion, its harsh blankness would never feel familiar. Not to her. Even the viewports brought no relief from the dark. The bright artificial lights outside the compound illuminated the ragged walls of the crater in which it stood, the asteroids hovering above the settlement like petrified clouds, and beyond them, space.

With a shiver, Sabé averted her gaze from the transparisteel, returned her attention to the Jedi at the opposite end of the table.

She'd heard of Yoda, of course. Was there anyone in the galaxy who hadn't? He'd even visited Theed along with another member of the Jedi High Council after the Battle of Naboo, to attend Qui-Gon Jinn's funeral. But the handmaidens hadn't been introduced to him or Master Windu, and they’d left the planet again before the victory celebrations.

In the past three days she'd heard so many surprising things that Obi-Wan addressing him as _Master Yoda_ oughtn't to have fazed her, yet it had. It was almost impossible to reconcile the stories she'd heard of the ancient warrior with this diminutive figure supported by a gnarled walking stick and speaking with garbled syntax. Well--the ancient part she could believe. As for the warrior…the Force worked in mysterious ways, she supposed, and Obi-Wan deferred to him.

"Cold Polis Massa is," Yoda spoke at last, her shiver not having gone unnoticed, "but friendly to Jedi."

"So am I," Sabé replied.

"To one, you are."

She glanced at Obi-Wan, seated to her right, where he scuffed his finger over his mustache as he watched the exchange in silence. He needed someone to be friendly to him, needed it desperately after the recent horrors he'd endured. Far more than she imagined when he clung to her last night, and still more than he'd yet told her.

Yoda knew. He must. The vaguely passive-aggressive words he'd greeted Obi-Wan with in the nursery made her grind her teeth. She'd regained her composure first, approached the older Jedi, Leia still in her arms, and made her own introduction: "Sabé Al'Lur. I knew Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon Jinn when they were assigned to Naboo during the Trade Federation Blockade ."

In response, Yoda only clutched the knob of his stick in his clawlike hands and said, "Follow me. To a place where better acquainted with you I can become _._ "

"Don't blame Obi-Wan for not bringing me to you when we arrived," Sabé said now. "I was quite adamant to see the twins."

"Strong-armed him, did you?"

Sabé flushed, mouth opening in retort, though she could think of none. She _had_ been making a lot of decisions for the both of them ever since they were reunited at the funeral, but it wasn't like _that_. Was it?

"Sabé is as kind as I ever knew her to be," Obi-Wan came to her defense. "The sight of her in Theed was a most welcome one."

His eyes rested softly on her, more grey than blue now in this dark room, but more peaceful than they had been last night or earlier when they roiled with emotion. A break in the storm, though it lingered in the distance, to build again. She offered him a faint smile, and his lips hitched upward, returning it.

Yoda did not acknowledge Obi-Wan's remark. Sabé felt a small, almost physical internal tug back to the little Master. She had a sense not so much that he was searching her, but looking deeper. Searching the Force? What did it have to say about her?

"To Naboo for answers Master Obi-Wan went. With you he returned."

Sabé's pulse quickened as she remembered the way Obi-Wan had looked at her in the cantina last night, the blue of his eyes so bright against the bloodshot white when he rasped out, _I found you_.

"I'm afraid I've only brought more questions of my own."

She wanted to blurt them all out now, but bit them back as Yoda, grunting and grumbling unintelligibly to himself, clambered out of his chair and hobbled to the viewports. His stick tapped faintly on the floor.

"Questions are not in and of themselves the lack of answers."

What the kriff did that mean? Sabé was rapidly losing patience with this cryptic conversation. If Yoda had nothing substantial to say, she'd be much better off back in the nursery with the babies. She'd been reluctant to leave them alone again with the droid, though felt slightly better about it when, on impulse, she'd stopped Obi-Wan from laying Luke in his own crib. "Put him with Leia," she'd told him.

A vertical line had etched itself on his his forehead as his brows pulled together. "Sharing the same crib?"

She'd shrugged. "They shared the same womb for nine months."

Though he'd still looked dubious, Obi-Wan obeyed, carefully placing the boy alongside his sister. At once the babies curled into each other, pinkies touching,  and fell into deep sleep. Obi-Wan had lingered over their crib for a moment, watching them with an expression Sabé couldn't name.

"The only certainty I have," she said, returning to the present conversation, "is that I was Padmé's friend, too."

" _Mmm_." Yoda's eyes narrowed slightly on her. "One of her handmaidens you were. A decoy. But many years have passed since Sabé Al'Lur served the former Queen of Naboo."

Neither time nor distance could alter her love, Sabé had told Padmé in a message as she went off on her first mission for the Rebellion. The years had passed, her immersion in each of her false identities as a spy becoming more and more complete, until she’d sometimes wondered if she was in fact the imposter she pretended to be. Often it was only her brief communications with her mother and, after she died, with Padmé, that reminded her of who she was.

"Padmé sent a message to Sabé asking for help for help, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan cut in, his voice thin, stretched, as if his patience, too, were in short supply. "Before she went to Mustafar to warn Anakin of my intentions."

"I was too late," Sabé said. "Obviously."

The lines on the wizened little face shifted into an expression that was almost amused. "So obvious is it to you? Do you see the future?"

"I'm no Jedi. I understand little of the ways of the Force. But Force or no, I _do_ mean to fulfill Padmé's final request. I will do everything in my power to help her children."

"Then share the same objective, we do."

Somehow, this statement did not make Sabé feel they shared anything at all.

"Trust you entirely, Master Obi-Wan must, to bring you to the place where they are hidden without first seeking counsel. Contrary to his nature such a departure from protocol is."

"Master Yoda," he said, rubbing his thumb and forefingers across his brow, "there _is_ no Jedi Council. As far as we know, you and I alone survived this purge. If there _are_ others, Darth Sidious will hunt them down. What protocol exists for such times as these? What does it even matter?"

The emotional hurt was as evident in his words as the physical ache in the way his hand massaged his forehead. He lowered it, and added, more quietly but with no less feeling, "And yes. I trust Sabé with my life."

A stab of emotion pierced her chest. To have the trust of a Jedi was no small thing, Sabé knew, but it seemed she'd done so little to earn it. In the grand scheme of things, they hardly knew each other. Two days stranded in the desert of Tatooine, during which she’d had to act the part of the queen while he'd tried to repair the ship, and one conversation on the palace balcony, overshadowed by grief. Yet in that brief time, they'd stood in awe together of a syzygy, and he'd opened up to her about his loss.  Whatever it was that had occurred between them then, Obi-Wan seemed to view it as a strong enough foundation for _now_.

"Master Yoda," she began, but caught herself, suddenly concerned of all things about the protocol of addressing Jedi. "Sir," she added. "What is to become of Padmé's children?"

He bowed his head, looked down at his hands folded together over his stick. "Much consideration to this must I give."

"I appreciate that," Sabé said, with as much tact as she could salvage from the shreds of her patience, "but they're newborn babies. Their first days are vital to their future. Polis Massa may be friendly to the Jedi, but it most certainly is not to infants. Padmé would want Luke and Leia to be someplace full of light and love. They won't thrive here, in the cold and the dark, only looked after by droids."

"She has a point," Obi-Wan said. "Even in the temple the younglings were cared for by fosterers."

"They have family," Sabé went on. "Padmé's parents, her sister…." She pictured them, walking slowly behind the casket, the veneer of their stoicism barely holding. "It seems so cruel to let the Naberries believe her child died with her. The twins would be such a comfort to them. And no one could love them as well as their own grandparents and aunt."

Again she saw Padmé’s mother’s pale face staring in shock at her, the twin of her daughter. If only she could’ve given the family some comfort, to let them know she would share their burden of grief. But the kindness had been in turning from them, no matter how it pained her to do so.

"Cruel you think it, to consider the safety of the senator's family as well as that of her children?"

"They could go into hiding." Sabé cast about for solutions. "I could go with them, as a bodyguard, if they’d have me. I'm more than qualified. I had a similar assignment, posing as a governess and guard for the family of a suspected Separatist Bail Organa wanted to have watched."

"If Padmé's parents disappeared, it would place them in very grave danger," Obi-Wan said. "You know this."

He didn't mean it unkindly, but it sent a little flare through her that made her inhale sharply. She did know it. She was a security professional, after all, trained to protect the highest Naboo officials. Her eyes watered again. She was too close to think clearly...Perhaps the Jedi were onto something with their lack of attachment.

"Of course." She closed her eyes, breathed until she was certain she could speak steadily and not cry. As she opened them, another idea came to her, clear as day. "All right then, what about me?"

Obi-Wan and Yoda both looked at her askance.

"I could look after the twins," she blurted out before she could doubt herself. "At least until a more permanent solution can be found. I have an apartment in Keren."

Obi-Wan leaned forward in his seat, intrigued, though his next question seemed dubious. "But isn't Keren your birthplace?"

"It's a big city. Bigger than Theed, and I don't even live in the same neighborhood where I was raised. I didn’t visit Keren at all during my training at the academy. I hardly know my neighbors because I travel so often. There wouldn't be anything suspicious about a woman turning up with newborn twins."

Neither spoke. Sabé's heart pounded in dread during a lengthy lapse in conversation as _much consideration_ took place.

After a moment, Yoda broke the silence. "Thoughts about this plan do you have , Master Obi-Wan?"

He rubbed his beard in that thoughtful gesture. "It isn't ideal..."

"Obviously not," Sabé said, her words clipped. "The ideal would be for these babies to be raised by their mother."

It came out a little more cross than she meant for it to, but Obi-Wan didn't appear to have taken offense. Or to have heard her as he mulled. Lowering his hand from his chin, he pushed up from his chair and paced away from the table.

"Not ideal doesn't make it a bad plan," he said. "A populous city could prove an effective hiding place for the twins. I blended in, when I was in Theed. Sabé is skilled in defense," he added as he turned toward them again, and stood still. "And she has a way with the babies. She got them to sleep peacefully. They were…crying a great deal before."

That had been a lucky guess, and Sabé was afraid it had given him a higher opinion of her child-rearing knowledge than she really deserved.

"I am concerned about Darth Sidious," he said, resuming his pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

Yoda _hmm_ ed in agreement.

"Who?" Sabé asked; it was the second time Obi-Wan had uttered that name.

He halted again, expression turned inward, as did his shoulders. "Palpatine."

"A Sith lord, he is."

Sabé knew little of the Sith, beyond their being enemies of the Jedi and one had killed Qui-Gon Jinn. And then Obi-Wan defeated the Sith lord when he was only a Padawan.

"What if I went to Keren with Sabé and the twins?" he suggested.

Her heart quickened again, though she drew a long breath so as not to let her enthusiasm for the idea show. Obi-Wan needed someone to look after him as much as the twins did. But _they_ must be her priority, not her long-held feelings for him. He only made the offer for their sake.

Yoda made a scoffing sound in his throat. "Knowledgeable about care of younglings, are you, Master Obi-Wan? Aware I was not that you spent time learning from the fosterers."

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed, bright like the ignition of his lightsaber. "What else is there for me to do now? The battle is lost. Caring for the children would at least be useful."

It might also help to assuage some of the guilt he felt at not being able to save their mother.

And for killing their father.

"Looking for you, Darth Sidious will be."

"Then I may as well go into hiding with the twins!" Obi-Wan's voice echoed in the room as he flung out his hands at his sides.

Yoda stared across the room at him for a long moment, and Sabé heard the pulse of her blood in her ears as she waited for his pronouncement. That he didn't immediately argue the point was a good sign, wasn't it?

"Convinced, I am not, that hidden together the twins should be."

"No!"

Sabé leapt to her feet, stumbling a little over her chair. She hadn't realized Obi-Wan's pacing had brought him so near to her place at the table until she felt the light brush of his fingertips at her elbow. But while his touch helped her keep her balance, it did not steady her reaction to Yoda.

"You cannot separate them. They've lost both their parents, and their grandparents won't know they exist. To part them from each other…You _can't_."

Yoda remained passive in the face of her vehemence, staring at her for a moment before he shuffled back to his chair.

"Meditate on this, I must."

 _Meditate._ What was there to meditate on? Their options were limited, and neither of them had presented an alternative to hers. Obi-Wan agreed with her. His fingers stroked her elbow, as if to calm her, but she didn't want to be soothed right now. She wanted to speak her mind. She moved away from him.

"Look. I have no reason right now to believe these claims of Jedi incompetence," she said, using the low tones she’d relied on as the queen’s decoy to keep her shaking voice level, "but if you don't do well by Padmé's children, I will have to reconsider that opinion."

Yoda settled himself in his chair and looked up at her with a scowl that seemed to ask if she'd said her piece. She had--and to her annoyance, she felt a little guilty about it, at least for going off like that in front of Obi-Wan, who was so measured and respectful. When she finally darted a glance at him, she found he was, indeed, staring at her as though he were taken aback...but along with it was mingled...admiration?

His lips hitched upward, the ghost of a smile, and his eyes flickered toward the door. With a nod of understanding, Sabé strode to it, leaving him to deal with Yoda.

 ~*~

 

The twins were still asleep when Sabé returned to the nursery. She was glad, satisfied by her discovery that they soothed each other, but the image of Luke and Leia curled together like kittens blurred with stinging tears and made her throat ache. Yoda couldn't separate them. Obi-Wan wouldn't let him.

He appeared on the other side of the glass door much sooner than she'd expected to see him, and her heart plunged to the bottom of her stomach with dread that this meant Yoda had been immutable. She got up from the sofa, putting down the datapad he'd been reading earlier but which she hadn't been able to focus on, and tried not to look too anxious as he entered.

"How quickly can we ready your shuttle?" he asked.

"You convinced Master Yoda? He's agreed to let us take the twins to Keren?"

 _Us_. Two days ago she'd assumed him dead, leaving her with only a memory of a single significant moment thirteen years ago.

Obi-Wan nodded. "For the time being."

"Thank the stars," she breathed. Then she looked at him, black-clad and haggard. "Are _you_ sure about this?"

"Well, I don't know anything about babies," he replied, "but as I said, I have time to learn."

"There's not a lot _to_ learn. In the beginning it's all bottles and changing nappies and holding them. I think."

"You _think_?" He raised his brows, but the creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth were his laugh lines.

"I'm no expert myself." A pang that her mother had died before seeing a grandchild gripped her heart, but there was no use dwelling on that now.

Obi-Wan grew serious again. "What about your work for the Rebellion? Will they be able to spare you?"

"Outside of the few days I took after my mother died, I've never taken leave," she admitted. "They owe me. Anyway, I've got a feeling protecting these children is of utmost importance to the Rebellion. Whether they know about them or not."

He nodded.

Sabé left him to confer with the midwife droid about baby matters and went to send an encrypted message to her commander that she would be taking an extended leave of absence while monitoring a sensitive development in the best interests of the Republic. Then she would send a message to Bail Organa asking him to back her up; he’d confer with Yoda and concoct a plausible story.

Her path through the labyrinthine identical dark passages through the facility to the communication center took her past the conference room where she and Obi-Wan had met with Yoda. She had a rush of conscience that she ought to apologize to for her harsh outburst, but when she poked her head inside the doors she found Yoda had gone. Maybe he was meditating, even though he'd already agreed to her scheme.

She continued on her way, footsteps slowing again at a shift in the lighting, a faint bluish glow emanating around a corner, occasionally flashing unevenly. As she neared she heard voices, and she caught her breath, halting in her tracks.

"...I share Obi-Wan’s opinion of her trustworthiness, if that sets your mind at ease."

Well, speak of the Cacodemon. The voice belonged to Senator Organa, and the subject of the hologram discussion was clearly her.

"Value your counsel, I do, my friend," replied Yoda. "Seldom questioned Master Obi-Wan's judgment have I, but clouded his senses may be by his attachment to Skywalker."

"Anyone's would be, after a betrayal like that." A fizzling sound swallowed his voice as the hologram glitched, the blue light flickering in the dark corridor. Sabé leaned nearer to the corner to hear. "...my offer still stands."

"Necessary that may become. For now, destined, my senses tell me Master Obi-Wan is, to walk this path in preparation for his future."

Sabé withdrew a little, heart pounding. Destined? To be with her? No--foolish thought. The ways of the Force were beyond her and her own small desires.

But what of that connection? Didn't it mean something?

"As you say, Master Yoda. I shall see to it that they have everything they need in Keren."

She turned and hurried back down the hall, determining not to share what she'd overheard about Obi-Wan.

And to forget that she had.


	4. Chapter 4

_CRADLE CONSPIRACY?_

The headline glared from Obi-Wan's datapad as soon as he settled into his seat on the airbus. It was a notorious gossip holo; he knew he should swipe away without reading another word, but his defiant eyes raked over the following lines against his better judgment.

_The late Senator Amidala infamously switched places with decoys, thwarting multiple attempts on her life. Could it be possible she cheated death one last time, not to save her own life, but that of her purportedly unborn child?_

A cry drew his attention from the datapad. Beside him, Sabé bent over the little bundle tucked against her body in a sling. " _Shh-shh_ …It's all right, sweet girl, go back to sleep."

Through the window across the aisle, Obi-Wan saw that the airbus was pulling away from Kwilaan Starport. The motion must have jostled Leia awake. He glanced down at the matching baby carrier he wore, where Luke's tiny face was scrunched up but otherwise showed no signs of waking. Obi-Wan looked again to Sabé, whose lips brushed Leia's frowning brow as she murmured to her. He couldn't understand what she was saying--maybe just soothing nonsense--but whatever it was worked; gradually Leia's grunts and growls subsided, and the little bundle in Sabé's lap stopped squirming.

She straightened up, raised warm brown eyes to meet Obi-Wan's. They were less shadowed than they had been. A night's sleep on Polis Massa had done her good, despite her dislike of the place.

At least one of them had found rest.

"That was nicely done," he said. "Especially for someone who claims not to be an expert on babies. If I'd had to calm Luke, every other passenger on this transport would be glaring at us right now."

Smiling, Sabé tucked an errant tendril behind her ear. "It's not far to the Central City. We probably could've walked. But there was the luggage and…" Her shoulder pressed against his arm as she leaned in to look at his datapad. "You couldn't have got your holo fix."

Her teasing expression hardened. Obi-Wan followed her gaze back to the news.

_After theories emerged on the HoloNet that Amidala's remains were made to appear pregnant to maintain the secrecy of the birth, a number of people have come forward claiming to have been entrusted with the care of her child. As in the case of the Senator's alleged lover, these claims cannot be corroborated, although the pending autopsy requested by Queen Apailana would confirm a live birth. Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie, Amidala's parents, have thus far rejected the conspiracy theories, which a spokesperson for the family in an official statement calls "sensationalist at best, extortionist at worst," and "of utmost disrespect to the memory of the former Queen who led her Naboo through its darkest hours."_

Sabé snorted and shifted in her seat. At once Obi-Wan was aware of the absence of her against his arm.

"It's not disrespectful, it's disgusting." She drew a holobook out of the rucksack on the seat next to her. "I have more important things to read than that garbage."

Her jaw muscle worked, and she blinked rapidly, but a moment later she’d glanced back at his datapad, worry creasing her brow. Like him, she was probably thinking how eerily close that gossip holo was to the truth. At length she returned her eyes to her holobook, which appeared to be a how-to on infant care. They certainly needed all the help they could get with that, so he left her to it.

He intended to return to the legitimate news holos--if there such a thing existed anymore amidst the propaganda broadcast by the new Empire--but couldn't focus on the Aurebesh characters glowing on the screen. Instead, he searched the small sleeping face peeking out from the swaddling wrap. He couldn't look for Anakin in his son without picturing yellow eyes gleaming with evil and maimed flesh blackening to ash. But did Luke bear any resemblance to Padmé? The features were too squashed to say. When open, the boy's eyes were blue, and Obi-Wan tried to reassure himself with Sabé's insistence that the eye color and fair fuzz covering the twins' heads would allow him to pass them off as his own.

The back of his neck prickled at the memory of her innocent assumption that he actually _was_ the father.

And his subsequent relief, which had very little to do with his adherence to the Jedi Code, that she believed him when he said that he was not.

Tucking the edge of the sling a little higher around Luke to block out the inquisitive gazes of their fellow passengers, Obi-Wan allowed his gaze to drift beyond them to the passing scenery. He breathed deeply and reached out for the Force, for the calm that had always been there to assuage hurt. But he'd never known pain like this, lancing through his chest. He wasn't sure that the Force had as much to do with dulling it as the soothing green rooftops of Keren, the hazy outline of the mountains behind them in the distance, the blue blur of the canal that flowed through the center of town. It might be pleasant to walk along it, with Sabé and the babies.

"Have you ever been to Club Deeja?" he asked, reading a neon sign as they passed; another showed they were entering the Marina District, which Sabé had told him was near her neighborhood.

"A few times, yeah," came her absent reply as she continued to read.

Obi-Wan pictured her face aglow with laughter and flashing lights, surrounded by friends...or perhaps dancing in the arms of a young man.

She swiped her fingers across the holobook screen to go to the next page--she'd made significant progress since she'd started reading--then met his eye.

"Want to go sometime?"

It took him a moment to realize she meant Club Deeja.

Her grin blossomed again, playful. "Though I have to admit, I never would've pegged you as the clubbing type."

A chuckle released the lingering tightness in his chest. "An accurate assumption." He ran his fingers over his mustache, down to the prickly patch beneath his lower lip. "I suppose now isn't the time to turn over a new leaf, is it?" He indicated the twins with a tilt of his head.

"They have early concerts. We could take Luke and Leia to hear some live music. Expose them to culture at an early age."

"Was that in your book?"

Sabé raised her chin, a defiant expression, though her eyes sparkled in response to his teasing. "As a matter of fact."

"You're a quick study. I imagine you'd have to be, in your line of work. Past and present."

She glanced away, the loose strand of hair curling around her hand as she pushed it aside again. "I started it before bed. This is much more interesting than muddling through four hundred pages of political jargon in one night."

"So it'll all be smooth sailing once we arrive at your apartment?"

"I'd better finish my book."

Even speed-reading, she didn't get much further before their ride was over.

Leia had cried when the airbus lurched into motion; now it was Luke's turn to awake unhappily when it jerked to a stop. There was no time to soothe him, though, or to attempt to. They only had a moment to collect their belongings and disembark the transport as the next load of passengers boarded. Obi-Wan worried their cries would attract attention, but Sabé assured him no one would look twice at them. Their main concern, she said, was making it out of the depot without getting their pockets picked.

For the next several minutes, he focused on persuading other people to avoid coming too close, and on not losing her in the crowd. He noticed little of their surroundings, apart from the telltale fishy smell that indicated their proximity to Lake Varum, until she stopped walking.

"That's it. Home sweet home."

On either side of the street stretched rows of apartment buildings, all duracrete and steel, stacked six high. Haphazardly, almost as if they'd been built by children playing with blocks. Luke was still crying in his sling--both twins were, now. Time for another feeding? Nappy change? But Sabé was right; they were just two more babies out of dozens more here, their wailing drowned out by barking akk dogs and the din of the neighborhood.

Obi-Wan must have been gawking, because Sabé said, "I warned you, it's a far cry from the Theed Royal Palace…or the Jedi Temple."

He tried not to remember it burning, the pillar of smoke billowing high amidst the skyscrapers of Coursucant, the small lifeless bodies littering the floor. _This_ was why he'd killed Anakin. He wished he could find the right time to tell her, but until he did, he was grateful that Sabé had taken his confession with trust that he'd done so for good reason.  He told his lips to smile and felt them twitch upward.

"It's perfect," he told her. "We'll be well hidden here."

She flashed a quick grin, then stepped in front of him, hitching her bag of personal effects over her shoulder. "Come on, then. That's mine up there on the third floor. Ours."

Although she pointed, there were a lot of third floor apartments, and Obi-Wan was a little flustered by _ours_.

"Which one?"  

"Below the Besalisk."

She had a Besalisk for an upstairs neighbor? That must be…noisy. His eyes snapped up to the fourth floor, where a woman propped two of her four arms on the balcony while the others gesticulated to neighbors hanging out their washing and waved a glowing cigarra. Just as Sabé mounted the stairs, the Besalisk leaned so far over the ledge she nearly flipped over it. Which would have been most disastrous to the people on the ground below, given her girth.

"Shiraya's word! Sabé, is that _you_?"

"Get ready to meet Linz," Sabé said through her smile. Starting up the stairs, she greeted, "Hello, Linz. It's been rather a long time, hasn't it?"

Three arms went to Linz's abundant hips as she _harrumph_ ed and took a drag from her cigarra. "Apparently long enough for you to have a _baby_."

Obi-Wan's breath caught. _There wouldn't be anything suspicious about a woman turning up with newborn twins_ , Sabé had said. The moment of truth had arrived. He wished his lightsaber were within reach, should need for it arise, but it was packed away in one of the bags, not clipped to his belt as he was accustomed to. In fact his belt was in the bag, too, along with his tabard and tunic and cloak and anything that would make him look like a Jedi. He felt decidedly underdressed in only the brown shirt and tan trousers that bore a few singe marks from Mustafar, which he'd caught Sabé eying curiously. He was grateful for the baby carrier secured to his chest.

" _Two_ babies, actually," said Sabé, indicating him, standing behind her with a crying bundle of his own.

"Twins?!"

Linz clattered down the stairs from her floor to meet them as they reached Sabé's floor, trailing cigarra smoke. Obi-Wan didn't want to be rude, but he instinctively turned to shield the baby from the choking odor as she leaned in for a look at the squirming, squawking infants. Her nearly seven feet in height made avoiding her a somewhat fruitless endeavor.

"They're so _tiny_!" Her wattle inflated with emotion. "So are you," she added, flicking her golden reptilian gaze over Sabé. "Not that I'm any expert on human birthing, but you don't look like you could've possibly just had twins."

"Long torso." Sabé shrugged, the lie coming easily. "And the clothes conceal a lot, I promise."

Before they'd left Polis Massa, she'd finally had a chance to change out of the flight suit, and now wore a shape-disguising vest over a shirt she'd shrewdly left un-tucked from her trousers. All in dark colors, for mourning, as he'd noticed on many of the Naboo between here and the starport.

"I haven't introduced my husband. Linz, this is Ben."

She slipped her free hand into Obi-Wan's as the Besalisk woman seemed to notice him, and not just the baby he held, for the first time. It was different than when Sabé had taken him by the hand to lead him around Theed. Now, she weaved their fingers together with his in an intimate way that sent a thrill through him.

 _It's just to play the part_ , he told himself.

"You ran off and got _married_?"

That cover was his idea. Sabé had blushed when he suggested posing as a married couple, and Yoda made a peculiar coughing sound. However, both agreed it was a more likely story than Sabé helping out a distant cousin who'd lost his wife in childbirth. They hadn't discussed an alias, but Obi-Wan wasn't exactly a common name on Naboo. Her ability to think on her feet was really most impressive.

He had to let go of her hand to shake one of Linz's outstretched ones. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, though his voice came out slightly pinched as the large leathery fingers wrapped around his hand reminded him of Dex Jettster on Coruscant. Yet another friend he would likely never see again.

"It's all mine, really." Linz puffed on her cigarra.

"We really must get the children inside for their bottles," Obi-Wan said.

“Come and see me sometime,” Linz smiled at Sabé, stretching her wide mouth even wider. She folded two hands over her expansive torso and puffed on her cigarra with a third. “I’ll be around. Let me know if there's anything I can do. I'll tell Romish you're here. He's been holding a lot of packages for you at the office," she added with an expression that made Obi-Wan suspect the packages--supplies from Bail Organa--were the subject of much curiosity, perhaps apartment gossip.

“Thanks, Linz,” said Sabé as she shouldered past her neighbor’s bulk to get to her door. “See you later.”

She waited until the Besalisk had turned to stump back up the stairs to her apartment before she faced her own door.

Despite the flat metal doorfront looking exactly like every other one in this complex, Sabé’s security was quite sophisticated, Obi-Wan was gratified to note. She placed her hand on a panel and it responded to her touch with a quiet _bing_. Then she said in a soft voice, “Open up, peedunky.”

After a second _bing_ , Obi-Wan heard the smooth metallic sound of several bolts unlatching, then the door slid aside to allow entry. He was about to remark on her having a Huttese insult for her passphrase, when Sabé bent, cradling Leia’s head, and retrieved a small blaster he hadn’t known she was carrying  from inside her boot. She strode inside, both hands on her weapon, and disappeared around a corner. She reappeared quickly, switched on the lights next to the door, and said, “All clear.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Do you do this every time you return home?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

 _If I had one_. “I suppose I would, yes.”

“Come on in.” Sabé reinserted the blaster in her boot and loosened the buckle that held her baby sling in place. “Leia needs a change, we’ll check Luke, and then we can feed them. We’ve got to get them on the same schedule.”

“Was that in your book?” he asked as he stepped inside.

He barely heard her confirmation, or the _whoosh_ of the door closing behind him, as his gaze took in her small home.

Whatever he’d expected, he wasn’t sure he was prepared for all the plants and flowers. Her apartment, instead of feeling stale and unused, smelled as fresh and alive as a greenhouse; she’d rigged up automatic drip irrigation, attached to plastic water reservoirs, for each little potted plant.

His heart swelled at the pains she’d taken to make her home as welcoming to herself as she could, for it sounded as though she wasn’t home often as her work for the Rebellion took her farther and farther afield.

 _Citizen storage_ , he’d overheard someone say on the transport earlier, referring to apartment complexes like Sabé’s, and he could only presume that the rest of the dwellings here were as small as hers. But none could be as lovely. Her space was neat as a pin, and sparsely but elegantly furnished.

A round wooden dining table, large enough for two people, greeted him first. One chair was tucked under it, the other stood against the wall to his right, under a piece of fabric artwork, all in blues and greys, with vibrant stitching to accent the shapes of a series of houses framed by trees. To his left, a peninsula separated the dining area from the scrubbed galley kitchen with a sink, two-burner cooktop, and small refrigeration and warming units, above which hung  cabinets with frosted glass doors containing her small collection of dinnerware.

Beyond the dining  area was a combined living room and office, furnished  simply with a grey couch and an end table with a lamp on the wall nearest the kitchen, and opposite them, a desk and cabinet--and were those actual paper _books_ on the top shelf? In between the couch and desk stood a faceless black rubber sparring dummy. Her bedroom and the 'fresher must be down the darkened hallway off the kitchen, though Obi-Wan couldn’t see them from where he lingered in the entrance.

“We can roll up some blankets on the floor to make a crib until we get our supplies from the landlord’s office,” Sabé said.

While he’d been admiring her home, she had opened her backpack and removed a changing pad, which she’d placed on the soft taupe living room rug. She’d already tucked the new nappy underneath Leia’s pointy little bottom and had nearly finished cleaning her up while the baby pumped her legs happily, obviously pleased to enjoy some fresh air. Obi-Wan hurried to watch the finishing touches as Sabé secured the diaper. His first effort this morning had left Luke’s too loose in the front, which had led to one spectacular leak just before they’d left Polis Massa.

Sabé stood with Leia in the crook of her arm and punched some buttons into the comm pad on the desk. As she began to talk with the landlord about delivering the supplies, Obi-Wan crouched to change Luke’s nappy.

He couldn’t even loosen the sling.

“Blast it all,” he muttered as he tugged at the securely wound fabric. Luke grunted. “I see you agree with me. Smart lad. Perhaps you could learn to walk soon?” The baby started to cry. “I’m not rushing you. Well, first things first: this blasted sling. Where’s the--”

Sabé, having finished making the arrangements, found the buckle at Obi-Wan’s right shoulder and lifted it so that the fabric slipped out easily. Crouching down with him, she threaded it through while Obi-Wan eased Luke onto the changing pad.

“Thank you,” he said, turning a grateful smile toward her. She returned it as a flush of pink bloomed on her cheeks. Obi-Wan had to return his attention to Luke upon realizing that not only was he blushing, too, but fighting off a powerful urge to lean closer to Sabé and...what? What could he possibly do that would make a damned bit of sense? Ridiculous human bodies, always doing things one never asked them to do in the first place.

Suddenly he felt a lurch in his chest.

He was alone with Sabé.

They were alone together. For the foreseeable future.

Somehow that hadn’t quite penetrated his skull before. Well, he’d had plenty weighing on him, horrors that kept him awake at night and distracted him during the day. But what would he do, now they were together?

An emotional connection, he'd always told himself, on the occasions when his brief time with her on Tatooine and Naboo crossed his mind. A moment of shared awe at the glory of the galaxy and, on a less cosmic, but no less significant level, shared empathy between two souls. Qui-Gon had a simpler explanation. Eager to be a perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan had denied physical attraction vehemently to his Master, but eventually he'd had to acknowledge the truth in his heart that Sabé _was_ beautiful to him, he _did_ admire her, and in more than in the objective way one would admire a painting--or a syzygy.

But within a day of Qui-Gon’s death, he’d taken on a Padawan of his own, and there was no time for fantasy. Only the ones he allowed himself when he was alone and burning, as all did from time to time, for a touch. It was easier to compartmentalize _this_ as simple physical attraction.

He knew now though, as he somehow knew then, that _this_ was far more. That if he'd been in Sabé's company at all, his temptation would have been great.

And now here he was.

Here they were.

With that _something_ between them.

Was that how it had been for Anakin and Padmé? How forcefully had Anakin tried to resist their connection? Had Padmé? Would it have made a difference?

A wince drew Obi-Wan's brows downward and sent a dagger through his heart at the memory of Anakin’s brilliant smile, which burned even brighter whenever Padmé was near, and at the thought that his Padawan had actually fallen in love.

And then, remembering how dreadfully everything had turned out, that dagger twisted.

 _Peace_ , he told himself. There was nothing to be gained from torturing himself. He tried to focus on his hands, the baby beneath them. He slid the new nappy underneath, removed the wet one, and wrapped it around itself for composting.

But then his former master’s resonant voice echoed in his mind and suddenly he was an adolescent again, facing Qui-Gon across a fire on Jakku. _A body at war with the mind weakens the Jedi, consumes him as the flame consumes the wood. In every physical act there can be balance. You choose it, and it is a deliberate act. You maintain control, and it will not burn you._

_But Master, how do you keep from falling in love? From developing attachments?_

_Who said I never did?_

_But--_

_Someday this will make sense. The Force doesn’t have to be all-or-nothing, despite what some may tell you..._

If Obi-Wan had encouraged Anakin to share his feelings openly, if he’d sanctioned a physical relationship, then perhaps--

Anakin’s flaming cheeks and his stalking exit from the Temple were all he could remember about the first time he’d tried to advise him about sexual attraction. The second time his Padawan had been prepared, even going so far as to offer Obi-Wan tips about women. _I grew up with slaves, remember?_ His lopsided grin hadn’t masked the biting anger under his tone.

There hadn’t been a third time. And now...

 _Too late._ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and refocused. Pulled a wipe from the packet. Gave Luke’s smooth skin a moment to dry before securing the new nappy. There was peace to be found in the mundane, as Qui-Gon had often said--and then assigned him additional chores.

A sudden wetness warmed his knee and one hand flew up to deflect the flow of the baby’s urine as the other quickly brought the nappy up over Luke’s groin.

“Did you just use the Force to block _pee_?” Sabé asked before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Reflex,” said Obi-Wan, unable to resist grinning sheepishly back at her. It had been so long since he’d seen her dimples, and the adorable crinkle of her nose, that now all he could do was stare.

“Ah,” she replied, eyes twinkling. “And I use a starship to smack flies.”

Now Obi-Wan laughed. “For quite a while my only tool has been a hammer. I can’t help it that everything looks like a nail to me.”

They continued to grin at each other, but their laughter faded and soon so did their smiles. Somehow he sensed that Sabé knew just what he was thinking: What would he do now? Now that the Jedi were no more? What purpose did the Force have in his life?

His place in the galaxy suddenly felt very small indeed.

But at the moment there was a nappy to secure onto a baby. Perhaps a very important baby--two, in fact, if he and his sister had a fraction of the power Anakin had possessed. Obi-Wan wiped Luke again, reached for yet another nappy, and attached the tabs, adjusting them as Sabé directed him. The diaper appeared snug enough now. Hopefully there would be no more epic accidents tonight.

Another quiet _bing_ , this time from the inside of the apartment, drew Sabé’s attention. She stood and approached the holo monitor by the door that provided a view of the outside. Beside it, Obi-Wan noticed a narrow ledge containing an incense cup and a small carving of a female figure. He knew it to be the Naboo Goddess of Safety, for he'd seen others like her at the starport here and at the hangar in Theed and asked Sabé who she was. An auspicious likeness to have near, under the circumstances.

A droid hovered on the landing, several large boxes beside it. She swept the door open, thanked the droid who now floated away, and turned back to Obi-Wan.

“Baby things!” she said with glee.

The next few hours passed quickly as they assembled the crib and changing table, which just fit between the sofa and desk with the sparring dummy shoved into a corner, rearranged the cabinet to make room for the twins’ clothes and changing supplies as well as some extra clothing for Obi-Wan, cobbled together a quick dinner from the staples Bail had thoughtfully sent, and fed and bathed the twins. Night must have fallen some time ago, but Obi-Wan couldn’t tell because of the dark curtains hanging over Sabé’s large front window. He wondered if she ever opened them.

“We’d better try to get some sleep,” she said with a yawn and a back-cracking stretch after laying Leia next to a sleeping Luke in the crib. “I, erm…” She caught her lip between her teeth, and her gaze flickered from Obi-Wan's. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on the sofa. Maybe tomorrow we can look for a proper bed. A cot, at least.”

“There’s no need,” Obi-Wan assured her. “I’ve slept on worse, believe me.”

“Let’s see how you feel about it tomorrow, shall we?”

“Agreed.”

An awkward silence stretched between them. “Well...good night,” Sabé said. “We, erm...we can take turns tonight when the babies wake up for feedings. I’ll leave my door open. So I can hear them.”

All he could think of to say was, “You’re very kind.”

Her cheeks reddened. “That’s--there’s no--” she floundered. “Sleep well.”

She bit her lip again, turned, and exited into her dark room. A soft light came on--perhaps her bedside table lamp?--and he tried not to hear the soft whispering of fabric that meant she was changing into other garments for sleep.

Obi-Wan sat on the couch, sighed and pulled off his boots and socks, tucking them next to the wall and flexing his toes and feet with relief. Then he pulled off his shirt,  folding it as he stood again and  crossed to the open cabinet, and laid it on top of the other garments Bail sent. His hands rested on the new tunics and trousers and underthings as he breathed slowly. He probably should meditate, but it was already so late, and the twins would probably wake soon for a feeding. He was tempted to look more closely at the books--yes, she did have a small collection in the armoire--but given how precious such items were he decided it might be considered too forward or nosy and resolved to ask about them tomorrow.

After donning a clean lightweight shirt and sleep pants, he switched off the lamp, then crouched next to his pack to retrieve his lightsaber, which he placed on the sofa. A glance into the babies’ crib told him they were sleeping soundly--for now. He tossed the pillow Sabé had given him toward the end of the couch next to the wall, shook out the folded blanket--he was too exhausted to bother with the sheets--and lay on his back with his lightsaber solid and reassuring at his hip. The Besalisk upstairs was still awake and stomping around, but he’d slept through worse. After several long minutes of staring at the ceiling, he closed his eyes.

And met feral yellow ones. Even in sleep he knew it wasn’t happening, but it had happened, and would keep happening, until he died. This time Anakin said something different.

 _You have no right. They’re mine,_ he screamed.

Obi-Wan sat upright, chest pounding, hands clutching at the strange blanket and sofa under him. The screaming still went on.

A dark shape rushed toward him and he’d reached for his lightsaber before he remembered who it was, and why she hurried. Sabé snatched up Luke at once and held him to her chest, humming and shushing into his forehead, but his cries had awakened Leia anyhow.

“Well,” said Sabé, “we wanted to get them on the same schedule. Now’s as good a time as any to begin.”

~*~

By morning, Obi-Wan knew that a schedule for the twins was not to be. At least not yet. Perhaps not ever. He’d decided several hours ago that the book Sabé read yesterday hadn’t a clue about actual human babies.

And now all the caf in the galaxy couldn’t sharpen his sleep-deprived brain.

Leia and Luke had taken it in turns to wake each other--and the two adults caring for them--every half hour or so. Sometimes one had a soiled nappy (but the other didn’t), sometimes one was hungry (but the other wasn’t), sometimes one wanted to be held (but the other didn’t). Both of them, however, loved crying with gusto and seemed to take the other’s vocalizations as a personal challenge to amplify the volume. The neighbor who shared the wall hadn't appreciated it, as evidenced by occasional thumps. At least Linz made enough noise above them that she didn't seem disturbed by the twins.

Sabé had flung the front curtains wide as soon as the sun was up because, as she’d opined grumpily, there was no point trying to extend the night cycle. It would only make it more difficult for the twins to sleep tonight, adding, “That’s what the book said.”

Obi-Wan, who was disinclined to agree, had squinted and recoiled from the light streaming through the window as though he were a nightshrike.

Later Sabé had mandated that when one twin was hungry they go ahead and feed the other one, too, even saying they should go so far as to wake the other if it was asleep, because it likely would within the hour anyway. “That’s what the book said,” she said as though that made it law.

Obi-Wan had stared at her in disbelief, but she was too exhausted to notice.

“We’ll have to give each other naps this afternoon,” Sabé now said over her shoulder as she scrubbed caf from the rug. She’d set her cup on the changing table and Luke had kicked it off when she’d changed him five minutes ago. “Sleep when the baby sleeps, that’s what the book said.”

“Did the book happen to take into account what to do when there’s more than one?” asked Obi-Wan.

Narrowed, bloodshot eyes impaled him where he stood. “That’s not helpful.”

“Perhaps I’ll brew some more caf.”

“ _That’s_ helpful.”

While he poured the water and set the carafe on the cooktop, Sabé picked up Leia to finish this set of diaper changes. A quiet “oh” told him something was wrong, and he went to her side.

“Leia’s got a little rash. Can you hand me the diaper ointment?”

“Of course. Where is it?”

“In the cabinet.”

Obi-Wan turned, but he couldn’t spot it immediately. The nappies were already in a pile rather than in little stacks, and they hadn’t taken the time to sort the babies’ clothing yet. “Where in the cabinet?”

“In the—on the shelf.” She waved vaguely, her attention still on Leia.

“Which shelf?” He peered behind the twins’ things, but it was just office supplies Sabé had pushed toward the back.

“The—I don’t know, just look!”

“I’m looking. I don’t see it.”

Sabé huffed in frustration and turned to face him. “Move. I can’t see through your body.”

Obi-Wan took an exaggerated step backward and held his hands up to showcase the contents of the ointment-free armoire.

“I see it. It’s there.” She gestured with the wet diaper in her hand.

His brow furrowed. “Where?”

“There!”

“I’m sorry, where?”

“Where I’m pointing.”

“I must tell you that a nappy is not a precise pointing instrument.”

She threw it in the small trash receptacle they’d set beside the changing table for later transfer to the compost. “There!”

She pointed to Obi-Wan’s underwear.

He’d laid them on top of the tube of ointment so that only a bit of the cap protruded from beneath.

“Oh. Well. Here it is indeed.”

“ _May I have it, please?_ ”

He retrieved the ointment and sent it sailing over to her with the Force. She caught it in one hand and hissed, “Really?”

"I'm going to check the caf isn't burning," Obi-Wan said, feeling the heat of her glare on his back as he turned away.

~*~

Sabé's voice sounded behind him, from the kitchen. "I _just_ changed her. Please tell me she isn't wet _again_."

 _That answers that question_. Obi-Wan adjusted Leia's diaper and swaddling blanket and turned slightly away from the crib to see Sabé through the pass-through, pouring yet another cup of caf. They'd both consumed so much in the...two days?...the twins had been in their care that he doubted they would ever be able to fall asleep again, even if Luke and Leia gave them an opportunity to try. The stimulant probably wasn't helping their tempers, either, though he thought the weight in Sabé's voice now was less frustration than fatigue.

"All clean and dry," he said, as pleasantly as he could, and turned to her.

"Thank the stars." Sabé cupped her mug in both hands and sipped. Her look of momentary relief vanished as her brows pulled together, dimpling her forehead. "Then why were you checking her diaper?"

Obi-Wan bristled at the implied criticism. On the other hand, her displeasure certainly made it easier not to feel emotions for her that he'd better not. On the _other_ hand, _her_ emotions were the result of exhaustion, which did none of them any favors. The last thing the babies needed was a hostile environment.

There were any number of excuses he could make for the act she'd caught him in, from _Just checking if Leia's rash is improving_ to _I thought I smelled something_. But he found he had no desire to lie to her, no matter how tiny and white. Not when he was already withholding so much from her.

Anyway, a guilty grin betrayed him.

These sleepless nights were really taking a toll on his ability to measure his reactions.

"I couldn't tell them apart," he confessed.

Sabé's eyes bulged a bit as she swallowed her caf. "You…" She pressed her fingers to her lips and made a sound that was partly a cough, partly a chuckle. "What?"

"You've said yourself how similar they are, except that Leia's eyes are darker. How do you tell them apart when they're asleep? _Can_ you?"

"Of course I can."

She strode to stand next to him at the cribside, gazing down at the sleeping babies, wrapped in identical white blankets, beneath which they wore matching white shirts, mitts, socks, and caps. Only their faces showed, mirroring each other as they curled toward each other, eyes scrunched, mouths sucking at their pacifiers, chests rising and falling in unison. Obi-Wan tried but failed to stop a satisfied grin from forming as he watched Sabé's expression change from confident to confused.

"It's really an uncanny resemblance, isn't it?" he said.

Sabé scowled. "The irony of a former decoy being unable to tell twins apart. I'm sure if I could actually see straight, I'd be able to tell the difference."

"Our powers of observation are compromised by sleep deprivation."

He watched her sip her caf, its aroma wafting to him temptingly. _A Jedi must not have wants. A Jedi  must be self-reliant._ He'd endured worse deprivation than this during the war, and on missions. They'd seldom had caf to keep them going.

"But as that situation seems unlikely to improve for the foreseeable," he went on, "perhaps it would be prudent to find another means of distinguishing them, apart from peeking at their…anatomy."

"What do you suggest? Write their names on their foreheads with one of my eyebrow pencils?"

Rendered momentarily speechless by the notion that such a thing existed--though why he should be surprised by _that_ with all the elaborate makeup he'd seen on Naboo, he didn't know--he finally said, "Or draw a little mustache on Luke."

Sabé had chosen that moment to take another drink, and nearly spewed caf as she let out a little shriek of laughter. Probably she wouldn't have found it so amusing if she weren't delirious with exhaustion, but Obi-Wan smiled at her all the same, warmth spreading through his chest as it always did whenever she laughed, especially at something he said.

The solution to their problem turned out to be simple: the baby clothes Bail Organa had sent were all gender neutral, for the sake of practicality, but they weren't all the same color. They divvied them up, designating the whites for Leia and the greys for Luke.

"Not a very creative solution," Sabé said as they re-dressed the babies after their nap and next diaper change. "Maybe we should draw a mustache on Luke anyway, just to amuse ourselves."

He could watch the sparkle of laughter in her eyes forever, flecks of sun-drenched gold in the rich dark brown. "Or maybe you ought to take a nap," he suggested, remembering what she'd said the first day, or whichever day that was, "since you're far more amused by that than it merits."

"You're full of good ideas today," Sabé replied, handing him the remainder of her caf as she padded off to her bedroom.

~*~

“I might be a zombie,” Sabé said as she tossed a towel over her shoulder and disappeared into the 'fresher, “but I at least want to be a well-dressed and clean zombie.”

Obi-Wan had to smile; he was beginning to feel the same way. Caring for newborns left little time for oneself. Even sharing the burden, he and Sabé alternated shower days, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d trimmed his beard. He must look a sight. At least they weren't sniping at each other, now they'd learned to cooperate.

The door closed. The shower came on.

He took a deep breath and moved away from the 'fresher.

Scratching at his scruffy chin and neck and peering into the twins’ crib on the way to the cabinet, he found Sabé’s small collection of books on the top shelf.

Real, bound books. With paper pages.

They made him long for his own, the ones he’d lost along with everything and everyone else.

No. _Almost_ everyone.

Sabé had said he could read hers, but until now he’d been hesitant to touch them. The oils from his fingertips--not to mention whatever else might be on them from caring for newborn infants--could break down the ink on the pages. The paper might be too brittle to leaf through. She’d waved away his concerns but hadn’t assuaged his anxiety.

Wait. Was Sabé _humming_ to herself now? He stared back at the hallway. No, that was singing. Definitely singing.

His body almost compelled him, as if _he_ were a zombie, to go back and press an ear to the door, but somehow his exhausted brain won out and steered him back to the books.

Books were a fine distraction.

He placed a finger on top of the slimmest volume and tilted it, then slid it gingerly off the shelf and turned it face up.

_The Cursed Prince and the Brave Handmaiden_

Never having heard the title before, he automatically made his way to the couch and sat, opening the cover with tentative fingers only when he was settled completely. Tucked just inside the crease of the binding was a photograph of Sabé, just as he remembered her from before, so she could have been no older than seventeen or eighteen, standing in front of a nondescript office building with a dark-haired woman and a man in a uniform he knew from holopics around the apartment to be her parents. On the flyleaf, a handwritten inscription read, _To Sabé, my bravest handmaiden, for all your service_ . _With great thanks...Padmé_. Throat tightening with emotion, his fingers traced the looping script, as if he could feel a lingering trace of her presence in it as he had on the amulet she’d passed to him before dying. But of course he could not. Perhaps the Naboo were correct about the life force. Quickly, he turned to the title page and saw a subtitle:

_A Fable in Two Parts_

His brow furrowed as he moved on to the first page of text.

_Once upon a time, there was a young prince._

It was a fairy tale, complete with inked illustrations. The first depicted a young boy swinging a wooden sword in a field of flowers. Obi-Wan smiled and continued reading.

_The prince had parents who loved him, and a kingdom that respected him. The king and queen, adored by all, were fearless and tireless in their desire to make the realm a safe and beautiful place. But the prince, having never known strife or want because he was born after the defeat of the Dark Witch, chafed under the yoke of his parents’ expectations and wondered if the universe might have a higher purpose in mind for him._

It was a morality tale similar to _The Wayward Jedi_ , one Obi-Wan hadn’t remembered in years. He’d heard many such stories as a youngling in the Temple crèche, and had delighted in sharing them with Anakin. The ones his Padawan had offered in return were darker, with more severe punishments at lessons unlearned, but he supposed that was to be expected. A slave child couldn’t hear stories about redemption or salvation. Obi-Wan had tried to explain to Anakin that those fables had one purpose only: to keep the slaves in their place. It was the first real smile he’d seen light the boy’s face.

As he read on he discovered that the similarities to _The Wayward Jedi_ continued. The witch tricked the greedy prince into poisoning his own father to attain the crown. His mother, the grieving queen, cursed the prince, converting his every act to evil so that he suffered without end. The prince traveled the galaxy with one red eye and a constellation of stars on his face, and everything good turned to ash in his hands.

Obi-Wan closed the book with shaking fingers and pressed them to his eyes.

The yellow ones burned into him again.

He stood with a violent movement—which he stilled, after a few breaths. Again he thought of telling Sabé everything. His heart swelled with a growing longing to unburden his grief and guilt—not just with anyone, but with _Sabé_ , who had known him when he was young and idealistic, and whose relationship to him, whatever it was or might become, wasn’t one tied to the Force or politics. But adding to her already heavy load was another burden he wasn’t certain he wanted either of them to bear just now.

Perhaps it would be prudent to exchange the fairy tale for a dry, straightforward history of Keren.

Settling again on the couch with the book on his lap, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and listened to the musical babble of the shower water, strained to hear the words of Sabé’s song, smiled at the quiet duet of the two babies breathing within his reach.

When at last he felt centered, he opened the history. He skimmed the first chapter, which was full of statistics regarding such tidbits as the city’s demographics, tourism, geography, commerce, and finances. The second chapter focused on Keren’s known history. Of note, there seemed to be conflicting reports about how and by whom the city was founded hundreds of years ago.

_Oral histories, passed down through generations of the city’s oldest families, insist that Keren was founded by a fringe group of Force users known as the Knights of Ren. These stories declare that Keren was originally known as K’Ren, meaning City of Ren. According to legend, this group claimed not to affiliate itself with either Sith or Jedi groups; however, the Knights of Ren, if they did exist, appear in these stories to have been at best chaotic, and at worst--_

Obi-Wan sat upright.

“It’s all yours,” came Sabé’s voice from the 'fresher. The door now stood open, its warm, sweetly-scented steam wafting into the rest of the apartment. He looked up just in time to see her disappear into her bedroom and close the door behind her.

Swiftly turning his gaze back to the page, he no longer saw the words on it, for all he could picture were the delicate muscles between Sabé’s shoulder blades, the curve of her waist beneath the short towel, her hair hanging in damp tendrils down her neck…

His cheeks grew hot as he stared blindly at the same sentence for the next minute.

Frustrated, he slammed the book shut—then immediately examined it for damage and cursed himself for his carelessness. This was a _book_ , after all.

He slouched back, raked a hand through his hair, and cursed under his breath, “Karabast.”

After replacing the book carefully on its shelf, he unzipped the small bag of toiletries Bail Organa had sent along with his new civilian clothing and retrieved the sleek, handheld vacuum trimmer. As he crossed to the 'fresher he turned it over in his hand, for he’d never owned a beard groomer as elegant as this one.

Leaving the door open to let the steam escape, he stood in front of the mirror and regarded his haggard reflection. Nights sleeping—well, _trying_ to sleep—on Sabé’s couch had made his hair utterly untamable, and it now stood up in several unauthorized directions despite how many times he’d tried to brush it down. Well, the scraggly mustache and beard were something he could manage.

Obi-Wan leaned over the sink, switched on the trimmer, and went to work, beginning with his neck and then adjusting the setting for his beard. He decided to make it shorter than he’d had it, for the babies were forever pulling on it, streaking it through with vomit and the Maker only knew what else. A shorter beard would be easier to clean. A thought of shaving it off completely flickered through his mind, but he didn’t want to frighten the children with a brand new face, one they might not recognize. Besides, he wasn’t that fresh-faced kid anymore, and he had no desire to pretend to be, no matter how much he might long for a return to that innocence in the wee hours of the night.

He’d nearly finished when he heard Sabé’s door open and her footsteps pad lightly across the narrow hall into the kitchen, where they stopped. When he was satisfied with the outcome of his efforts, he switched off the device, stepped back, rubbed a hand over his jaw and neck, and turned…to find Sabé standing between the counters staring at him.

The moment froze him in place and his heart began to pound. He found himself quite unable to speak as he gazed back at her, so lovely with her hair pulled back into its three buns, her cheeks pink from the shower, her body long and lithe beneath comfortable dark grey leggings and a black tunic. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

One of the babies—Luke?—began to cry, and Sabé quickly went to him.

Obi-Wan’s hand found the door frame and held onto it until he was certain he had regained his powers of speech and could reenter the room without seeming a fool. But he’d watched  her pick up Luke and continued to stare while she bounced the boy on her shoulder.

Suddenly he imagined he could hear Qui-Gon’s chuckle. _Someday this will make sense_ , he’d told him.

Obi-Wan wondered when that day would arrive.


	5. Chapter 5

" _CAUSE OF DEATH, UNKNOWN_ ," Obi-Wan read the headline aloud as Sabé put a plate into the small warming unit above the cooktop.

They hadn't eaten a meal in days that hadn't been reheated at least once, usually several times, while they tended Luke and Leia's interruptions. Why they still went through the bother of cooking it the first time was beyond him. All they achieved was making a mess of the kitchen, which there was never time to clean, the counters grimy and the sink piled with dishes so he could hardly stand to go in there. This meal had sat untouched on the table for--he glanced at the chrono on his datapad--for an _hour_ while they struggled to get the twins to sleep.

" _A full investigation into  the death of Senator Padmé Amidala and her unborn child has been halted, following an outcry from Amidala's parents, Ruwee and Jobal Naberrie, at Queen Apailana's proposed autopsy. Out of respect for the grieving family, who objected on grounds of defilement of the flesh, the Queen rescinded her order. Many Naboo regard this act as too little, too late, for the two-day period for cremation has already passed. Senator Amidala will instead be interred in one of the mausoleums at the Theed Funeral Temple."_

Obi-Wan stopped reading and looked up. Sabé stood with her back to him, facing the warming unit, so he couldn't see her expression to gauge how she'd taken the news. Not well, judging by her hunched shoulders and crossed arms. He scuffed a finger over his mustache as he recalled what she'd told him of Naboo funerary customs. _Padmé's life force cannot return to the earth._

"Padmé lives on through her children," he offered. "And their existence is still a secret, thanks to Bail Organa."

He couldn't imagine how much more complicated--and dangerous--things would have become if the autopsy _had_ been performed and the holos were full of more than just conspiracy theories that Padmé had given birth to a living child. It was complicated enough trying to get Luke and Leia to sleep, and to _stay_ asleep.

And negotiating whatever this was between him and Sabé. Sometimes he thought he knew, and then others…

Now, for example, she still hadn't responded to him.

"Sabé," he began, unsure of what he meant to say; he placed the datapad on the peninsula by her plants and took a step toward her, not knowing what he meant to do.

The warming unit stopped cooking with a shrill beep.

The twins stopped sleeping with a shrill cry.

Porcelain shattered as Sabé dropped (or threw?) the second plate she'd picked up to reheat.

"Kriff!" she cursed above the wailing babies--and then covered her face in her hands and burst into tears herself.

Obi-Wan stood paralyzed. What was he to do? Did he calm the twins first? Comfort Sabé? Clean up the broken plate and spilled dinner? He couldn't think, not in the midst of so much chaos.

He trudged out of the kitchen, back into the makeshift nursery he'd hoped not to have to enter again until after he'd eaten, read the holos, had a proper conversation with Sabé. For a moment he stood over the crib, looked down at the flailing, fussy babies, then reached one hand in. Instead of picking them up, he let it hover above their red little faces and gave in to the temptation he'd resisted up till now.

" _Sleep_."

They did.

The cessation of their crying came as an immediate relief, although he could still hear the sounds of sobbing in the kitchen. Still, he could think more clearly. Clearly enough to be a little appalled at himself for compelling Luke and Leia to sleep. The Jedi fosterers at the temple didn't even do that to the younglings. Babies cried for a reason, after all. Though the twins were making him question that.

Returning to the kitchen, he used the Force again to pick up the broken crockery from the floor and throw it into the waste bin; the spilled food would keep for now.

"I'm sorry." Sabé withdrew from behind her hands to swipe at her tears--in vain, for they continued to fall. "I'm just so tired, and I'm ashamed of myself for even thinking it."

"You're entitled to feel exhausted," Obi-Wan said. "And emotional--"

"When Padmé's parents and sister are suffering? If only I'd been there for her, I might've done _something_ to stop this. But I abandoned her. Because I'm selfish."

"You, Sabé? Selfish?" How could she even think it? "You are one of the most unselfish people I've ever known. This is proof of it."

She didn't seem to hear his words. Or if she did, they weren't what she needed to hear. He watched her weep and searched through his own disturbed mind for the right thing to say. Once again, he thought of the untold story surrounding Padmé's death. Anakin's fall to darkness had taken her with him. Nobody was to blame, or if anyone was, it certainly wasn't Sabé. The truth might at the very least relieve her of the burden of guilt.

But not now. She was too tired, already tearful. He couldn't add to her trauma.

And then he remembered how she'd shushed him at the funeral. How she'd reached for his shoulder on Polis Massa.

She didn't need his words.

She needed his arms.

So he offered them.

Sabé wrapped her own around his waist, spread her hands across his back, pressing herself tight into his embrace. Obi-Wan wanted to do more than embrace her as he felt the feverish warmth of her face against his. Only the slightest tilt of his head would brush his lips across her brow. He could kiss the tears from her cheeks, as words had failed to do.

If anyone should be ashamed of selfish thoughts, it was he. He _must not_. He closed his eyes and focused on releasing his want.

After a moment, all was silent and still. Sabé had stopped sobbing and shaking.

"Are you standing on our dinner?" she asked.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, saw her looking down at the floor where his bare foot was, indeed, planted in a cold pile of stewed kibla greens.

"It wouldn't have been very good rewarmed, anyway."

~*~

Although Keren’s days were shortening as winter drew near, the morning sun still blinded Obi-Wan—particularly when Sabé roughly yanked back the curtains now, just as she did every morning, as if to say _No we didn’t sleep, but kark you, daylight, we are ready_.

“I know, it’s worse than a desert planet,” Obi-Wan whispered, wrapping the carrier’s fabric snugly around Luke as the baby scrunched his face up and screwed his eyes shut against his chest. “It’s too bright. I couldn’t agree more.”

“I heard that,” said Sabé with a pointed look at him. “It’s useless to resist. Might as well just wake up.”

“But that’s what caf is for.”

Though she tried to restrain it, he caught a flash of her grin before she bent, cradling Leia’s head where she rested within the sling, and retrieved a watering pitcher from beneath the sink.

While she filled the container at the faucet, Obi-Wan stood next to her and poured himself a second cup, then turned around to lean against the counter, rubbing Luke’s warm back as he sipped in companionable silence. Then Sabé turned and began to refill the reservoirs for her plants, a task she’d been meaning to accomplish since the first day they’d arrived. Well, they’d been a bit busy.

He loved when she became engaged in some activity, for he could stare all he liked without feeling a flush rise on his cheeks if she caught him looking. The taut muscles of her upper arms raising the watering can, the gentleness of her fingers plucking off dead leaves or petals, the curve of her neck as she leaned close and murmured encouragement to a bit of struggling greenery; these were all things that drew his attention and—it was senseless to pretend otherwise—his admiration. Just now, it was the way her lips parted in concentration as she worked not to spill any water.

“I don’t have time to do things twice,” she said as if he’d asked her a question about her meticulous handling of the ewer. “Or to clean up messes of my own making.”

She didn’t look at him, but nevertheless he felt warmth rush to his cheeks, along with an insistent longing that was becoming more difficult to ignore by the day, despite his best efforts to crush it with thoughts of what had become of Anakin and Padmé.

“Tell me about this plant,” he said as he came to her side.

“Oh.” She smiled, fingering the glossy green shoots of a leggy cactus. “This is my oldest one. My mother gave it to me when I started working for Padmé. It used to have flowers on the ends, but it hasn’t bloomed since—” Her silence was punctuated by a forced smile. “Well, I haven’t been home much. I think it has to be moved around so it can get sunlight and darkness. It’s kind of been perpetual twilight here for a few years now.”

There was a stiffness to her movement as she carried the ewer back to the faucet and refilled it while he considered the weight of whatever she’d left unsaid. Had her mother passed away? Or was it Padmé she thought of? It was understandable; Anakin was never far from his thoughts. At times he even thought he felt him, as he had when they were Master and Padawan, when they were Jedi Knights and brothers-in-arms. But that was impossible. A bond like that was broken in death, as his had been with Qui-Gon, and the one he'd had with Anakin had been severed as surely as the limbs Obi-Wan struck off with his saber. What he felt must be Anakin in the twins.

As if in response to his pondering, he saw the rigid set of her shoulders drop in a heavy sigh as though she’d decided something. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, though she didn’t turn toward him. “My mother died a couple of years after I left Padmé’s service. It was a virus. But Mum always…soldiered on when she shouldn’t have. Even more so than my father. Unstoppable.”

Sabé’s voice caught on the last word, and Obi-Wan drifted toward her without realizing that he meant to. His hand rested between her shoulder blades, and he felt a stab of guilt for the thrill that coursed through him at touching her again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, knowing as he spoke how inadequate those words must sound to her. Never having known his own family, he’d always looked in wonder at those who had one, and his heart wrenched for her loss. She’d told him she had no siblings, and he had to ask, “Your father?”

“He died before her,” she said as she turned off the faucet.

When she pivoted to face him, his hand traveled to her shoulder and a flush blossomed on her cheeks. She looked into his eyes with an expression of such vulnerability that his heart thudded, and again he felt ashamed of the wish that bloomed there—while she was speaking of her parents' passing, no less.

“Dad was in security,” she went on. “Like me. Not exactly the safest line of work, if you’re thinking of longevity.”

“Sabé—”

He’d spoken without thinking, but how would he finish? _I don’t want any harm to come to you._ His fingers on her shoulder tightened as a wild thought took root. _You should leave your work_ . And go where? With _him_? The Jedi way of life never promised anyone the reward of a ripe old age, either.

Obi-Wan removed his hand and took a breath, though his heart kept on with its blasted hammering.

Sabé’s gaze followed his hand as it fell to his side where, immediately missing her warmth, his fingers twitched. He quickly raised it to stroke Luke’s back.

“Tell me about your other plants.”

He winced and closed his eyes at the awkward redirection, but she’d already turned away, red-cheeked, and didn’t see his involuntary expression. It was the feeblest change of subject, but he didn’t want to force her to talk about her parents if it was too painful, and he couldn’t talk about the fruitless thoughts that had just sprouted in his own mind.

Her smile, however, seemed genuine, perhaps even grateful, and he tried not to berate himself for his lack of social graces under the circumstances. Grief and longing. These two things had no business being in the same room together.

“This,” she said, crossing to a tall one that boasted dark heart-shaped leaves fanning out on all sides with drooping, pale green buds, “is one of my favorites. Padmé gave it to me as a parting gift. She took it as a sapling from Theed’s botanical gardens. Called it a ‘wish plant,’ but I don’t think it’s really—”

Again Sabé stopped herself. She bit her lip, blinking rapidly.

Had she indeed tried to make a wish? How old had she been when she parted from Padmé? Surely no more than twenty-five? He couldn’t help but smile at the innocence she must have clung to, despite the responsibilities she shouldered every day. Not unlike himself as a Padawan. “What did you wish for?”

Her lips parted and she inhaled with eyes dancing over his face as she tried to formulate some excuse for her belief in a folk tale…and he was overcome by an urge to cover her mouth with his own. His body swayed toward hers and he had to take a step backward to maintain their distance.

“If you speak a wish out loud it won’t come true,” she said, breathless. “Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

Obi-Wan managed a nod before she turned to the next plant, describing each one in turn and detailing where she’d gotten it, and under what circumstances. Most of them she’d acquired after she’d left her position as handmaiden. He imagined her returning to her starship after an assignment, striding through the hangar in her orange flight suit with some vibrant greenery tucked under her arm, then strapping it into the copilot’s seat and talking to it during the trip home.

It was such a sweet thought that his heart swelled, making a grin spread across his face.

He trailed Sabé to the next plant on the kitchen peninsula, but she passed by without describing it, instead clearing her throat and reaching for the carafe. She crossed to the dining table and poured caf into her mug.

“What about this one?” Obi-Wan asked, fingering the low, purplish ground cover with tendrils that trailed outside its clay pot.

“Oh,” Sabé said in a rush, “that was from an old friend.” She whirled to study the security monitor next to the front door as she bounced Leia and sipped her caf.

An old friend? Did she mean a _lover_? Something crimson and relentless pinched within his chest.

But she’d said _was_ . It _was_ from an old friend.  He clung to her use of the past tense and wished she’d confirm it for him, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. What business was it of his, anyhow? Even as he reprimanded himself for thinking he had some right to her romantic attentions, a small voice reminded him of that strange connection they shared. And something dawned on him as bright as the sunrise.

Perhaps he _did_ have a right.

And perhaps she felt the same way.

Wave upon wave of emotion buffeted him, and he closed his eyes to reach out to the Force for stability.

Whether it was he who couldn’t be still, or the Force, he was unable to touch it. He curled his hands into fists—and then it whispered in his ear, wordless, tender, and reassuring.

He opened his eyes to find Sabé facing him.

It might have been his silence that prompted her, or she might have thought her silence would signify more than it should, but she went on. “There was a man I used to see here. Everyone thought…well, it doesn’t matter what everyone thought. He wasn’t the one for me.”

Sabé squared her shoulders and raised her chin as though challenging him. “So I have a plant.”

Somehow her defensiveness, the fact that she would prickle under his scrutiny, nourished him. It might have been comical how quickly he’d become a jealous man, if it hadn’t stung so badly. He smiled at her. “So you have.”

She smiled back, and it felt better to him than the sunlight streaming through the window over her shoulder.

~*~

It was unbearably hot, and Obi-Wan knew he was on Mustafar again. He pivoted, tried to find Padmé’s starship, to leave this place and carry her to safety, but all he saw was metal and flame, blurred by heat and the sweat and tears in his eyes.

His lightsaber’s hilt vibrated with a single-minded energy he did not possess. The weapon sought its victim again, tonight, just as it did every night.

 _Throw it into the fire_ , he ordered himself this time. _Throw yourself. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing, nothing, nothing._

Anakin was there, whirling like a demon, eyes flashing, teeth gnashing. _My brother_.

Obi-Wan wanted to die, but his saber directed his arm and he parried, attacked, struck. It went on, endlessly, for the puppeteer of this scene never grew tired. His feet danced with a purpose he did not feel. His body spun and advanced, for that was its job. His feelings were irrelevant.

_I loved you._

But tonight something changed.

Just as Anakin’s blade pierced Obi-Wan’s pale Jedi robes and he hoped in vain for _his_ death instead…his brother’s arm wrapped around him in comfort. Obi-Wan cleaved to him, burying his face in Anakin’s chest, repeating the words so that perhaps, this time, he’d believe him.

It felt real, and the relief was profound. He clung to the waist that seemed so solid, the fabric soft and sweet smelling.

“I loved you.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hoarse, barely audible over the lump of grief in his throat. He said it again, burying his face into a set of ribs. “I loved you.”

A hand stroked his head, threaded fingers through his hair.

“I loved you.”

“ _Wake up_ ,” a voice said in his ear.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

He lay on his side on the couch with his face buried in Sabé’s waist, his arms around her hips, crushing her to him as she knelt on the floor. Her torso twisted over him protectively, and he felt her chest against his shoulder. Her arm pressed into his back while her other hand remained tangled in his hair.

It was so still. Quiet. He, not the babies, not the neighbor upstairs, must have awakened her.

He realized he was weeping into her waist.

Placing both hands on her hips, he reluctantly pushed himself away to lie on his back. The tears, still flowing, ran into his ears. He felt rather than saw Sabé sit back on her heels, for he couldn’t bear to look at her. All he could do for a few moments was breathe and drag his sleeve across his face until he’d composed himself.

At length, she spoke. “Will you tell me about it?”

Her voice was so gentle, so trusting, that he felt in danger of weeping again.

With a tight throat and eyes trained on the ceiling, he said nothing until he was certain that he could. Even then he only managed a nod. His lightsaber dug into his hip, and for a wild moment he wanted to run to the canal and hurl it in.

“I’ll make some tea.”

Her knees cracked as she stood up, and he was grateful for the extra few minutes to collect himself a second time.

Luke and Leia breathed gently in their crib. The kettle creaked as its metal expanded over the heating element. Neighbors, heading out for early work shifts, trudged down the outside stairs in their heavy boots. It was still dark out, but the sun would be rising soon.

After a time he propped himself up on his elbows and watched Sabé standing with arms crossed and shoulders hunched in front of the cooktop, her silhouette framed by the soft blue of the front door’s security monitor. She bit her lip and, it seemed to him, studiously avoided looking in his direction. Another wave of gratitude for her discretion threatened to topple him until he had to turn away.

By the time she returned with two steaming mugs, Obi-Wan had pushed back the covers and sat at the far edge of the sofa, elbows on knees, hands clasped with gaze fixed on the rug between his bare feet. She sat on the opposite end, tucking her feet under her.

“Jeru tea,” she said, passing him a mug and adjusting the hem of her silk robe so that it covered her knees. “It’ll calm you.”

“Thanks,” he said with what he hoped passed for a smile. He took a sip. It was sweet and syrupy, but it felt good going down.

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Obi-Wan glanced at the crib, almost wishing the children would wake so that he wouldn’t have to speak. He hadn’t even told Yoda all of it, and probably never would—how could he?—and he didn’t know what might happen to him once he confessed.

But he knew what was happening to him keeping it secreted away. _Better out than in_ , as Qui-Gon had said the first time Obi-Wan had overindulged on ruge liquor and crouched on the ‘fresher floor heaving and silently praying for relief. This felt like a similar kind of poisoning, and there was only one way to expel it.

“Anakin—”

But Obi-Wan’s throat closed up. To loosen it he had to take another sip of tea, grateful for something to do with his hands as he nervously fingered the lip of the earthenware and inhaled the exotic scent wafting up through the steam. Sabé just waited, her mug balanced with both hands on her knee. Though it was still quite dim, he could make out her pale fingers wrapped around the mug, her shoulders leaning toward him, her long hair mussed from sleep. He thought he could even smell her unique scent, a heady combination of soap and spices and something alluring he couldn’t name.

When he’d recovered enough to speak again, he went on. “Anakin was seduced by the Dark Side.”

 _There_ . _I’ve begun_.

Once the words were out, he could look into Sabé’s eyes. Despite her own lack of sleep, they glimmered attentively in the grey morning light as she watched him without judgment or pity, only compassion.

Obi-Wan spoke with slow deliberation, for somehow it seemed important to honor the memory of the young man Anakin had been by recounting it as accurately as possible. Even so, there were times he had to stop and gather himself before going on, and he questioned again the fairness of burdening her with it, particularly when he saw her wiping away her own tears at the news about Anakin’s murder of the younglings at Palpatine’s command.

The telling of it took so long that Sabé changed and fed Leia, and later Luke, while encouraging Obi-Wan to go on. Then, pulling aside the curtain to let golden light spill in, she made porridge. Obi-Wan sat with her at the small table and ate without tasting it, surprised when she took an empty bowl from his hands to place it on top of the pile of dishes in the sink. He was still talking after the twins had fallen asleep once more and while Sabé made caf. She ushered him back to the couch, where they sat with knees touching as they sipped from the same mugs that earlier held their tea.

By the time he told her what Anakin had said and done to Padmé during their final encounter, and how he’d left Anakin for dead, he wept again, the tears running into his mustache and beard, and Sabé wept, too, her hand squeezing his so hard he couldn’t have pulled away even if he wished to.

From the set of her mouth Obi-Wan could tell that she had questions, or at least things that she wanted to say to him. Blessedly, she refrained, going instead to refill their caf. In the time she was gone, exhaustion fell upon him like an eclipse, and when she padded back over to him his eyes were unfocused and heavy.

“Come on,” she murmured as she turned to set the mugs on the dining table. She took him by the elbow. “Into bed with you.”

Though he muttered a feeble protest, his body obeyed, rising with her and allowing her to steer him to her own bed, and he fell where she aimed him onto a quilted coverlet and a soft pillow. The last thing he was aware of before he drifted off was Sabé settling close to him, the quiet rustle of the paper pages of a book, and a hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder.

Obi-Wan dreamed of Mustafar’s fiery hell, the flames licking up into the stars. With dread he reached for his lightsaber…but a hand on his shoulder turned him around, and the white-orange flames became a glorious syzygy. Then the twin suns became the handmaiden’s gown, peach and vibrant orange, bright and alive as the young woman beneath…and then his hands were on her flushed skin, pale and pink and tan, and his tongue and teeth and body slid along it, and he plunged upward and inward.

He’d always loved the sunset.

~*~

He woke. Not to a baby's cry, for once, but to Sabé's low voice, very near.

"Theeeeere's your burp, darling. I knew you had one in there. Let's see if you've got another, shall we?"

Lying very still, Obi-Wan cracked his eyes open, scrubbed the sleep from the corners and let them adjust to the dim glow of a night light in the corner as he listened to the rustling sounds of Sabé rubbing and patting the patting the baby's back, the grunts and gurgles from the small face he discovered peeking over the sofa cushion at him. She sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa, an empty bottle beside her.

"I slept through a feeding?" he rasped, pushing up on his elbows.  

"Just Luke. Though I think Leia will be ready soon. I heard her stirring a moment ago."

Leia was always stirring. A restless little creature who seemed to think she had better things to do than sleep. Such as screaming at other people. Obi-Wan sat up fully, scooting down the sofa to swing his feet to the floor beside Sabé. The light fell over an expanse of bare leg as her short silk robe crept up her thigh.

"You should have woken me."

"You were sleeping so peacefully."

The only other time he'd slept deeply in this apartment was the one long nap he'd had in the low bed in Sabé's room with its tranquil deep blue walls. Since then, the couch had seemed even more uncomfortable, though the nightmares of Mustafar plagued him less now that he'd told her.

"What about getting them on the same schedule?"

In the shadows, he could just make out the play of a smile on her lips. "They will be. More or less. Luke only just finished his bottle."

As if vocalizing support of her statement, the boy on her shoulder let out a wet belch.

"Goodness," said Obi-Wan. "What should we say to that, young one?"

"Help." Sabé's voice was pinched with desperation. "He's spit up on me. I think it's gone down my robe."

"Now, Luke, that is no way to treat a lady," Obi-Wan said as he crouched on the floor, Luke peering quizzically over her shoulder as she turned to show him her back.

 _Neither is peeking down a lady's robe_ , he thought, drawing down the sodden fabric to towel off her neck and shoulders and the straps of her sleeveless top. He’d tried very hard not to wonder what, exactly, lay under that silky robe. Now that he knew, he wasn’t sure whether his problem was solved or worsened.

"It's in your hair, too," he added when his fingers brushed against the loose waves.

Sabé wrinkled her nose. "Lovely."

She was, though. Even in sleeping clothes covered with baby sick, her hair disheveled.

"And tomorrow's your day to shower," she added.

"You might persuade me to trade. Seeing as circumstances are so dire."

"How gallant."

"Well, I am a knight."

Leia chose that moment to wake, demanding her bottle. By the time Obi-Wan retrieved it from the kitchen (which was mercifully dark so he didn't have to see the sink full of unwashed dishes) and the baby her from the crib, Sabé had finished cleaning herself up and resumed her position leaning back against the sofa, cradling Luke to her chest.

"Doesn't your book say babies should learn to put themselves to sleep, rather than letting them fall asleep in your arms?" He hesitated, contemplating whether he should sit on the couch, then lowered himself to the floor beside her.

"That book is garbage."

He pressed his lips together against a laugh. "That's your verdict?"

Sabé's shoulder bumped against his as she rocked slightly back and forth. "It's so…emotionally detached."

"Perhaps it was written by a Jedi fosterer."

No one could accuse Sabé of emotional detachment as she cradled Luke, stroked his downy hair, leaned over to kiss his cheeks.

"Affection comes so naturally to you," Obi-Wan observed.

His heart constricted both at the loveliness of it, and a sudden longing to know what it was to feel attachment and to express it without reservation. And to know what it was for another person to feel that way about him. Obi-Wan had the odd sensation of something beginning, something blossoming within him, at the acknowledgement that he _had_ been attached, that he might be walking the knife’s edge of attachment even now. Once upon a time he’d have shut down such thoughts without hesitation. Now he found himself swatting aside the guilt; as Qui-Gon had often reminded him, guilt was a useless emotion. _It didn't change me_ , he'd argued, a headstrong youth, but Qui-Gon had merely smiled placidly and asked, _How do you know?_

How _could_ he have known then that it had already begun to? And would continue to do so--if he embraced it.

Did he _want_ to change?

Sabé was looking at him with a strange light in her eyes. What did _she_ want him to do? How did one proceed?

Obi-Wan looked down at the babies cradled in their arms and continued the thought he'd begun before his lapse into introspection. "They're not even your children." 

Why _hadn't_ she married, borne children of her own? Perhaps she didn't want to. But that didn't seem right. The nature of her work, he supposed, didn't lend itself to family life.

"But they're Padmé's." A quaver in her voice made Obi-Wan curse his thoughtlessness. When she went on, however, it was gone. "I've always loved babies. I didn't have brothers or sisters, but there were plenty of neighborhood children around."

He pictured the teenaged version of her looking after little ones in an apartment complex much like this one, in another part of the city.

"And you had a governess job."

Sabé nodded. She stroked her thumb across Luke's brow, and his eyelids began to droop. "Babies are sweet. Even if their parents are terrible."

She'd told him about the family she'd spied on, who'd not been a pleasure to work for, and had seemed to care very little for their children, either.

 _These_ children certainly had one terrible parent. Though that needn't have been the case for Anakin. That was the tragedy of it. He'd had just the compassionate and caring nature that would have made him a devoted father. And had made the Jedi Order such a poor fit for him.

"They're so soft." Her voice drew him back from that precipice, too, as it had called him from the nightmare, "and they smell nice."

"I've smelled very little of these two that I'd use that word to describe."

Soiled nappies, spoiled milk, spit-up…

"Maybe I just think that because I need a shower," Sabé said with a grin. "But no, I mean it. Smell the top of Leia's head."

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow dubiously.

She rocked her shoulder against him. "Go on."

Deeply self-conscious of her watchful gaze, he adjusted Leia in his arms. Her mouth came off the bottle as he did so, and she protested. When she was sucking again, stormy eyes regarding him warily, he bent over her and sniffed as Sabé instructed.

"Baby shampoo?"

They'd given the twins a bath before bed, and both had screamed throughout the duration of the process as if they were being subjected to torture. Surprisingly, Obi-Wan had found himself chuckling and commenting that they didn't take after their father in this regard. He'd told Sabé how Anakin spent an eternity in the 'fresher when he first went to live in the Temple. Obi-Wan had scolded him for being wasteful and self-indulgent, until Anakin told him they only had sonic showers on Tatooine, and he had nine years' worth of showers to make up for. After that, it had been Obi-Wan who indulged his Padawan.  

"That's not what I mean," Sabé said through a yawn.

He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to reach deeper, and found it. Something distinct, and unique, that made his heart catch. Or perhaps it was Leia catching hold of him. Her little hand curled around his finger, and when he looked down again at her face, he found her staring into his eyes as though she’d just asked him a question, or was about to answer one of his. What had just happened? It seemed that something had now, finally, shifted.

He bent lower and brushed a kiss over the feathery top of Leia's head.

Hair tickled his neck as Sabé's head lolled against his shoulder.

When her breathing deepened with the onset of sleep, he placed a quick kiss on her hair, and rested his cheek against her head, breathing in the scent he already knew well to be her.

~*~

"You _are_ alive," Sabé's upstairs neighbor said in lieu  of greeting when Obi-Wan answered her thump on the apartment door .

"Was there some doubt of it?" He took a step backward in the narrow entryway, Luke cradled against his chest, to let the Besalisk woman, her various appendages, and the clinging odor of cigarra through. One of the elbows knocked against the Goddess of Safety, but Obi-Wan used the Force to stop her toppling off her shelf.

"No one's seen you in a week."

 _A week_?

Obi-Wan gaped at Sabé, who'd finished changing Leia and come to join them. He'd been aware of time passing in a blur of feedings and nappy changes and pots of caf and exhaustion, but to lose track of an entire _week_?

He seemed to have lost track of the neighbor's name, too.

Fortunately, Sabé--guessing this?--said, "Nice of you to check in, Linz."

Linz _harrumphed_ as she leaned in to look at the grunting baby girl in Sabé's arms, but her disapproval changed to a rattling chuckle as Leia grasped onto one of her large fingers. "I told you to come by. Or to call up if you needed anything. I would've been only too happy to lend a hand."

"Or four?" Obi-Wan joked. When Linz gave him a look that said, _A real comedian--I've never heard that one before,_ he added, hastily, "You're very kind, but we've got everything under control."

Straightening up, Leia still attached to her finger, Linz did a quick scan of the apartment. Her wattle inflated and deflated several times as her gaze touched the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, the pile of unfolded baby laundry on the dining table, his own unwashed clothes mounded in the corner of the living room, the overflowing waste bins, the tangle of sheets and blankets on the sofa. Obi-Wan's pulse quickened at the latter--he and Sabé were posing as a married couple, after all--but returned to normal speed when Linz didn't linger there. Even a real husband and wife might have a makeshift bed so as to be near by their babies.

"Ben, you and I have very different definitions of control," Linz said.

Sabé caught his eye, hers twinkling beneath arched brows.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, smirking, "I suspect we do."

Actually, the mess was mortifying, not only because Linz was giving the apartment another appraising sweep, but because untidiness simply wasn't in his nature at all. In fact he was sure the disorder contributed the chaotic state of his mind. There simply was never time to spare, much less energy, to look after any of it unless it pertained to the babies.

And he'd always hated washing dishes. _"As if scrubbing poo and puke stains off clothes is my favorite hobby!"_ Sabé had sniped at him in a fit of frustration--for she wasn't an untidy person, either--but he _still_ hadn't applied himself to the chore of cleaning the kitchen.

"All right, you two." A four-fingered hand gripped his shoulder, and another took hold of Sabé, steering them toward the front door. "Out."

"Out?" they echoed in unison.

"Yes, _out_ . Get some sun on that pasty skin. The babies need light and fresh air, too. They're not little houseplants. And you may not be dead, but you look _un_ dead."

"I knew I looked like a zombie," Sabé said a few minutes later when they found themselves blinking into the daylight, a twin strapped to each of them.

In addition to Luke, Obi-Wan carried a backpack he'd hastily filled with necessities for the babies, along with his lightsaber, cloak, and anything else incriminating their neighbor might find while cleaning--and no doubt snooping--through the apartment.

"You're far lovelier than any zombie I've ever seen."

He knew in the split-second before her face lit up with laughter that it hadn't come out like he intended.

"You do know how to sweep a woman off her feet with a compliment."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to tell her he didn't have any experience at all with sweeping women off their feet, but then her hand found its way into his, quite stealing away his words, and his breath. _The ruse_ , he reminded himself. A happily married couple would hold hands.

" _Have_ you seen zombies?" she asked as they started down the metal staircase.

"Unfortunately, yes." The harrowing thought at least distracted him from overthinking holding Sabé's hand and pretending to be her husband.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"Whether my tales of heroism will sweep you off your feet."

Sabé's hand shifted, threading their fingers together, and her body brushed against his arm as she turned slightly inward. "I've _seen_ your heroism, remember?"

"Well, then, you’re either already swept or you’re not," he said with much more steadiness than he felt as his pulse drummed, "and you don’t need to hear another frightening bedtime story. Nor do they," he added, noting that in the sling, Luke's blue eyes were wide open, staring intently up at Obi-Wan.

He grinned at the boy and let go of the backpack strap with his other hand to give him a finger to grasp. Leia was awake, too. They usually were, at this time of day, just before dinner, but not content as they were now. It seemed Linz had a point about getting them out. Now they were, he wondered at his earlier surprise that they'd holed up for a week. _Only_ a week? He felt like an animal coming out from hibernation at the end of a long winter. Though it wasn't spring on Naboo, the mild autumn evening might as well have been.

Remembering the notion he'd had on their arrival in the city, he suggested they walk along the canal, only to discover Sabé was already leading them that way. It _was_ as pleasant as he'd imagined, the flowing water and even the sounds of the traffic on it relaxing. From time to time they paused to watch the boats and barges, and Sabé told him about racing alongside them with her friends as a child, or getting rides out to Lake Varum, where they would swim or fish the summer days away. So very different from Obi-Wan's old childhood in the temple. Would it be more like the life Luke and Leia would know?

The thought came with a sharp pang whose source he could not identify. Anxiety over where, and with whom, they would be safest? Dread of this arrangement with Sabé, which had been such a balm to his spirit, coming to an end?

Hope, or longing, that it need not?

"Are they twins?" they were asked more than once by interested passersby who came near to admire the babies. "What a beautiful family!" Harmless enough remarks, but Obi-Wan or Sabé would squeeze the other's hand indicating it was time to continue on their way. He tried not to flush at the references to his wife and children--that was, after all, the charade--but when he stole a glance at Sabé he saw her cheeks, too, were tinged with pink.

Though not nearly as much as she blushed when they passed a few market stalls, where a vendor called out to Sabé over to look at her wares. "Two growing babies to nurse, hm? I have some herbs here to keep your milk up."

"On that note," said Obi-Wan as they quickened their pace, "is it about time we got Luke and Leia home for their feeding?"

"We have their bottles in your pack." Sabé's eyes twinkled at him before she glanced back at the herb seller's stall. "I've half a mind to feed them right here."

Laughing with him, she reached awkwardly across Leia to squeeze his hand in both of hers, though she had to let go again almost immediately due to the baby's protest.

"Let's not go back just yet, if you don't mind." She stroked his forefinger with the calloused pad of her thumb. "Linz had her work cut out for her, cleaning up that nerfsty, and I think Luke and Leia like the exercise. And I have this baby weight to lose."

"Linz already thinks you haven't eaten a thing this week," Obi-Wan replied, his chuckle mingling with her throaty laugh. "Perhaps we shouldn't exercise at all."

But it _did_ feel good to stretch his legs by doing more than just pacing back and forth across the cramped confines of her apartment while an infant squirmed on his shoulder and screamed in his ear.

"I noticed your sparring dummy," he said. "If we can ever get these two sleeping at the same time, we might train together." He hitched the pack on his shoulder, felt the weight of the saber at his spine "It's been some  time since I fought with anything other than…a very particular form of weaponry."

Sabé's forehead puckered as her eyebrows drew together in a look of concern. He wondered how this troubled her, but then she said, "As much as I'll love to get them on a schedule, I'll hate to have to admit that rubbish book was right."

"Ah, but you won't have to admit its _methods_ were right."

The shadows of the apartment complex began to lengthen, darkening the canal though the sky was still light. Sabé led him up to a bridge that spanned the canal. They found a bench where they loosened the twins' slings and gave them their bottles while they looked out over the green rooftops at Lake Varum and the boats coming in to docks as silhouettes. It was familiar. Like a dream. Like something that had happened before.

"This isn't the first time I've watched a sunset with you," Obi-Wan said.

But he wasn't looking at the sun glowing low over the water. His gaze was fixed on the way the crown of Sabé's hair shone in the light: a flare in the darkness of burning red.


	6. Chapter 6

_In a speech today before the Imperial Senate..._

Sabé ground her teeth, biting back an audible growl. Although if she _had_ growled, it would've been difficult to distinguish from the sounds Leia made as she settled to sleep. Deliberately, Sabé let out a long breath through her nostrils, relaxed her jaw, and leaned over the crib to pat the baby girl's back. Holding the datapad in the other hand, she read on.

_...Emperor Sheev Palpatine addressed questions about the fate of the Jedi Order._

_"The Jedi are an endangered species," the Emperor said. "Although some of those traitors escaped the initial purge, their trickery will not allow them to elude us for long."_

_Palpatine went on to reveal that the Empire has the full resources of the Jedi Archives at its disposal. Combined with information provided by former members of the Order currently in custody, the identities of those Jedi not yet confirmed dead are known. The Emperor pledged to assemble a special task force to rout them out of hiding._

_"The treasonous Jedi are marked for extinction. Those who aid and abet them will also be executed for high treason, while those who assist in their capture shall be duly rewarded."_

There was a link in the article to the known survivors of Order 66. Sabé touched a trembling finger to it and found not only their names listed, but their holopics. Most were unfamiliar, but her heart plummeted to her stomach when she saw Obi-Wan's face glowing on the screen.

"Dinner is served," came his voice from across the apartment. "Are they asleep?"

Looking up from the datapad, Sabé saw him come around the kitchen peninsula, carrying two plates to the table.

He was here. He was safe. With her.

A glance back down at the crib revealed that Leia had dropped off to sleep beside her brother. For the past two nights, one had slept for a three-hour stretch after their dinnertime bottle, while the other made it nearly four before waking to demand another. If they were lucky, they would have another repeat performance. Maybe the morning wakeup call wouldn't come quite so early.

Quickly, Sabé switched off the datapad, set it on the desk, and joined Obi-Wan in the dining room. He hadn't seated himself yet, but stood beside the table, waiting for her.

"That looks tasty." She eyed her plate as they sat. During their evening walk they'd bought a large doo at the fish market, caught just that morning in Lake Varum, which Obi-Wan had broiled up with herbs and Roonan lemon. "I always like my treason with a fresh garden salad on the side."

"I take it you read the _Emperor's_ Senate address?" came Obi-Wan's reply, dry to the point of brittleness, but apart from that he seemed calm.

Sabé, on the other hand, speared a qiraadish and scrap of lettuce a little too aggressively, the tines of her fork pinging against her plate. "He's already committed mass murder. It should come as no surprise that he means to finish you off."

Yet it had. The galaxy was being torn apart all around them, but her world had diminished to these four walls, where the immediate needs of caring for two newborns, getting more than an hour or two of sleep at a stretch, finding time for their own meals and keeping themselves clean and the apartment in relative order, consumed her thoughts. When Palpatine did cross her mind, it was in the past tense: someone who _had_ destroyed all Obi-Wan held dear, rather than as the continuing active and malevolent presence he was.

_Endangered species._

_Marked for extinction._

Perhaps what jarred her most was that Palpatine spoke of the Jedi as though they weren't even sentient beings.

"Don't worry about me," Obi-Wan said, a gentle smile on his lips. "I'm very--How did he put it?--ah yes, _tricky_."

Sabé couldn't help but return his smile, in spite of the reminders of the horrors outside. "If I told you not to worry about me, wouldn't you anyway?"

Foolishly, she chose that moment to take a bite as Obi-Wan's eyes held hers across the small table.

"Yes," he said, in a voice as soft as his gaze. "I would."

Somehow, she swallowed without choking, though she still couldn't breathe as he said her name.

"Sabé. I don't know how I can ever repay you, or even express the depth of my gratitude for all you've done. The risks you're taking--"

"You don't owe me anything." She didn't want his thanks. "Everything I've done is because…"

 _I love you,_ she nearly blurted out. But didn't he know it? He _had_ to know what she felt for him. Had to sense it, through whatever this connection between them was. Just as she sensed that what he felt for her was something much deeper than gratitude.

At the very least, he was attracted to her. On more than one occasion she'd caught his lingering gaze, his reddening face as he looked quickly away.

Or maybe attraction wasn't a wanted emotion, any more than attachment. After all, he had only to look at where both had gotten Anakin and Padmé.

Before she could say anything stupid, Sabé reached for her water glass, raised it toward the center of the small table. "To partners in crime against the Empire?"

For a moment Obi-Wan continued to look at her, and her pulse throbbed deafeningly in her ears as she failed to read his inscrutable expression. Maybe that had been the more stupid thing to say. But then the crisscrossed lines deepened at the corners of his eyes as his smile began there, and he picked up his own glass, clinking it lightly against hers.

"To partners."

Conversation lapsed as they tucked properly into their meal--lest one or both of the babies woke before they could enjoy their fish piping hot. Obi-Wan did get up once, when Leia cried out, but whatever it was--a dream, a twinge of gas--didn't wake her fully.  

"Who do you think they are?" Sabé asked around a bite as he returned to the table. At the questioning upward twitch of his eyebrows, she clarified, "Palpatine's _task force_ . Does he mean _Force_ literally? Has he turned other Jedi to the Dark Side?"

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair as he chewed, folded one arm across his chest, resting the other elbow on it as he stroked his mustache.

"There are always two Sith. Sidious will be in the market for a new apprentice, with Anakin dead. _Vader_ ," he amended.

His blue eyes flickered. Sabé knew he was imagining the holographic image of his former Padawan kneeling before his new Master in the Temple, the sacrifices he'd made to the Darkness all around him, his initiation rite. _Rise, Lord Vader_. Sabé's stomach twisted as it had when he'd first told her, her supper settling sickeningly into the pit. Instinctively, she turned to look at the crib where the twins slept. How could a father-to-be…murder little children?

"Whether the apprentice will be a former Jedi or not, I couldn't say."

Obi-Wan's voice drew her attention back to him, and she found his gaze fully present again, resting on her. She watched him sit forward in his chair again, pick up his fork and resume eating. He was much more in command of his emotions than he had been last week. As if opening up to her had purged him of the worst of it.

"There are many more Force-users in the galaxy than the Jedi and the Sith," he went on.

"Really?"

He told her about the Nightsisters, who were an order on Dathomir, where the Dark Force was particularly strong; one had been an apprentice to Count Dooku during the Clone Wars. The Dagoyan Masters, meanwhile, shared more in common with the Jedi, although their connection with the Force was purely spiritual, and they didn't wield it as warriors.

"Have you ever heard of the Knights of Ren?" Obi-Wan asked.

Sabé had gotten up for more salad. "That sounds familiar," she said, returning with the serving bowl to add the remains to both their plates, "though I couldn't say why it would be."

"The first I heard of them was when I came across the name in your history of Keren."

Thankfully, her back was to him to set the empty salad bowl on the peninsula, because she couldn't stop a smirk twisting her mouth. Of all the books Obi-Wan might have chosen from her meager library, _of course_ he'd gone for the history.

"You must've been trying to put yourself to sleep if you read that."

As she resumed her seat, he raised his eyebrows at her almost in a challenge.

"First I tried _The Cursed Prince_ for a proper bedtime story, but…" He trailed off, the playful glint fading from his eyes, only to return when he gave himself a little shake. "It failed to do the trick, so yes, I turned to the dry history."

They chuckled together over their salad.

"So who were the Knights of Ren?" Sabé asked. "Besides Force-users who were apparently dull as dishwater?"

She couldn't resist needling him about what she'd discovered in ten days of sharing an apartment with him was his one apparent shortcoming: Obi-Wan Kenobi despised doing the dishes, and avoided them at all costs.

"Oh, I found them much more interesting than dishes, believe me," he replied, gratifyingly. Laying his silverware across the empty plate, he took a drink of water. "Actually I didn't learn a great deal. Only that the name _Keren_ may have originally meant the City of Ren. There aren't any relics or anything of the kind that you've heard of?"

Sabé thought hard. "No, but…now that I think of it, as children a lot of our make-believe games involved knights who wore masks. Perhaps they were the Knights of Ren. Dark Siders?"

"Could be. They don't seem to have been affiliated with the Sith." His eyebrows pulled together to form a ridge above steely eyes. "If only I could still access the Archives."

"Perhaps Yoda has heard of them."

"Perhaps."

Sabé started to clear the table. They'd worked out an arrangement the past few evenings: one of them cooked dinner, the other cleaned up. A fair distribution of labor, they both agreed, though she made Obi-Wan promise he wouldn't volunteer to cook every night just to get out of dish duty.

Aside from his loathing of dishes, he was a tidy person, and a conscientious flatmate--now that they were starting to get the hang of life with infants. So she wasn't surprised when he followed her into the kitchen with their water glasses, or when he brought the empty salad bowl to the sink, or that he took a dish cloth to wipe down the table. She _was_ when he lingered by the sink as she filled it with hot water, draping a towel over his shoulder with the obvious intention of drying. It must have shown on her face, because he gave his shoulders a little shrug.

"This way we both get to have a little more time before the twins wake up."

"I'm deeply touched by your noble sacrifice," Sabé teased. Inwardly she thrilled at the implication that he wanted a little more time with _her_ , instead of the holos or a book or a nap or any number of things there was only time for when the twins were asleep.

"But I really don't understand what's so terrible about dishes," she said, plunging her hands into the steamy  water and fishing around for a plate. "I can think of a lot more unpleasant chores."

"It's probably because I associate it with punishment." Obi-Wan waited for her to rinse the suds off the plate she'd just scrubbed, then continued as he took it from her to dry. "Almost any time Yoda and Qui-Gon deemed it appropriate to discipline me, they assigned extra dish duty."

Sabé's laughter rang out. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, stifling it, and stood very still for a moment, listening for any sound that she'd woken the twins. When she was satisfied they were still asleep, she looked at Obi-Wan and found him watching her with a smile. How did such a gentle expression make her heart race so?

Reaching into the sink again for the second plate, she lowered her voice. "I can't imagine you ever doing anything that required discipline. What trouble did young Padawan Kenobi get up to in the temple?"

"Shirking dish duty." His eyes twinkled as he dried the plate. "Sarcasm, mainly."

"You? Sarcastic?"

"Difficult to believe, I know."

Most of her knowledge of his sarcasm came from her memories of their time together during the Naboo Crisis, listening him dishing it out to other people. Since they met again he'd directed very little at her, and that only when they were exhausted and in a state of semi-emergency with Luke and Leia.

"So what you're telling me is that as a boy, you were basically shorter, and had a braid."

"Basically, yes."

Sabé ran the tap to rinse a glass. "I remember how you looked then. Before you had a beard."

"Or greying temples." Obi-Wan's reply was accompanied by a heavy sigh, but when she turned to hand him the glass, he continued to regard her with that smile, his gaze so intent on her face that she felt heat prickle along her cheekbones. "The years have been much kinder to you than they have to me."

"I wouldn't say that. At all. I think it makes you look…"

_Handsome._

She'd thought him very handsome when he was a Padawan. Distractingly so, with that quiet intensity and the cleft in his chin which she'd imagined pressing her lips to. Part of her wished his beard didn't conceal it, but truth be told she thought him even more handsome now. The civilian clothes didn't hurt, either. Not that Jedi robes didn't have their own appeal, but the tunics and fitted trousers Bail Organa had provided outlined how lean and strong he was, honed by years of training and restraint.

"…wise," she finished the sentence she'd left dangling. "Exactly how a Jedi should look."

Obi-Wan went quiet at that. He stood very still, holding the glass in one hand but making no movement with the dish towel to dry it. Sabé turned to scrub the pan he'd cooked the fish in, lemon juice and oil and flakes of scorched skin stuck to the surface. _Kark._ He couldn't have _wanted_ her to blurt out that he was handsome? Or was it that he didn't feel wise, after everything that had happened?

She wasn't normally this stupid about men.

Then again, he wasn't just any man.  

And he was still standing there, now drying that blasted glass much more thoroughly than was necessary.

She cast about for a safe topic, and seized on, "You read _The Cursed Prince and the Brave Handmaiden_?"

"I started it," he replied in a voice so low Sabé had to stop scraping the pan so as not to miss his words. "I'm afraid I wasn't in the right frame of mind for a story about a promising young man who threw everything away to do evil for a dark master."

 _Kriff._ The pan thunked to the bottom of the sink. So much for safe topics.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said, massaging thumb and forefingers across his brow. "That was…morose."

Swallowing her own embarrassment, Sabé faced him again. "Don't apologize for saying what you feel. That runs contrary to all your training, I know, but I want to hear it. Good or bad."

Although he made no reply, he nodded, and some of the tension eased from his face. Conversation suspended as they finished washing and drying the rest of the supper dishes, leaving the pan to soak. The silence wasn't an uncomfortable one, exactly, but definitely contained an undercurrent of tension.

As Sabé stacked the plates in the cupboard, she felt his hand at the small of her back, then he reached around her to place the salad bowl on the shelf above. Her breath caught. It was impossible not to come into contact with each other when living in such close quarters, but this was no unintentional bump or brush. Obi-Wan seemed to be growing more comfortable with touch by the day. Holding hands during their walks was becoming as much a part of their routine as their path along the canal; he reached for her as often as she did for him. At home, there were grateful shoulder squeezes when she told him to take a nap, or he would sit down beside her on the couch so that his arm brushed hers when he tapped the screen of his datapad or turned a page of his book. Each touch, intentional or accidental, lingering or brief--as this one was--strengthened the connection between them.

And each was a treasure. 

"The thing about the prince," she said, turning to scrub down the countertops and compose herself, "is that the witch was so powerful. Much more powerful than anyone knew. How could someone so young and sheltered hope to resist her? Which was exactly why she chose him to do her bidding. Not that it excuses his evil deeds."

"You're not speaking about the fairytale prince," said Obi-Wan.

"Neither were you."

"Your view of him is very…judicious."

"I'm trying." Sabé rinsed and wrung out the dishcloth, then draped it over the faucet. "The Jedi aren't the only ones who should let go of anger and hatred."

"If more people shared your insight, the galaxy would be a far better place."

Having no more chores to occupy herself with, she faced him again, his gaze piercing. Hungry, almost.

"The two people I hold in the highest regard loved Anakin Skywalker," she said. "There must have been a reason."

"Padmé's last words were that she believed there was still good in him. She didn't know he lay maimed and dying in agony on Mustafar. Because of me."

"She knew _she_ didn't die there. Or her babies. Because of _you_."

Sabé took a step toward him, the only one the narrow kitchen would allow, and reached up, unable to resist the urge to brush her fingertips over the silvery patch of hair above his ear. Her gaze dropped from his, following the roll of his throat as he swallowed, but he didn't move away. Quite the opposite; his hand settled on the curve of her hip.

"Obi-Wan…" And she'd thought his hand on her back had made her lost for words. The intimacy of this… "You regret going because you killed him, but what would've happened to Padmé and Luke and Leia if you hadn't been there?"

His lips parted, but no sound passed through them for a moment. "I…hadn't thought about it like that."

It wrenched her that he still hadn't been able see his own heroism for all the horror of what happened on Mustafar.

"What happened was a tragedy," she said, "but it could have been so much worse. You made a _difference_. And so will they."

She watched him contemplate her words, and  his eyes seemed almost to physically brighten, as if more of the nightmare haze had cleared.

"It's a fable in two parts," she heard herself say. "You ought to read _The Brave Handmaiden_."

"But I already know her."

She felt the whisper of his words as a warm breath against her forehead and shivered, imagining the brush of his lips as her eyes dropped to rest on them, pink and soft amidst the sunset red-gold of his mustache and beard. He murmured her name as his other hand found its way to her other hip, drawing her against him. The beat of her own pulse as they tilted their heads toward each other-- _finally_ , this was happening!--was deafening…

...but not so deafening as to drown out the wail of a baby.  

For a selfish moment, she thought about ignoring it. Considered  grasping the front of his tunic and pressing her mouth to his anyway. Then she realized his hands were no longer on her hips. His fingers flexed, then curled into fists at his sides. He took a step back and pivoted away from her.

"I'll go," he muttered, leaving Sabé alone in the kitchen.

_Kriff._

She watched from the kitchen as Obi-Wan scooped Luke out of the crib before his flailing could wake his sister. He held the boy against his shoulder, bouncing him as he checked his diaper. Almost at once Luke quieted, though his spindly legs continued to kick for another moment as Obi-Wan patted his back. When he returned the baby to the crib and there was no protesting whimper, he looked across the flat to her. Peace descended again, and hope blossomed. It was only a momentary interruption. They would resume where they'd left off--

"I need to meditate."

Sabé blinked. Had she heard him correctly? Karking… _meditate_? He hadn't done that at all since he'd been here, that she was aware of.

Without moving from where he stood on the rug, he lowered himself cross-legged onto it, palms on his knees, and closed his eyes.

For a moment she stood there, staring like a wermo. Yes, he really was going to meditate. Was already doing it. Right here, right now. He'd almost kissed her, and now he was...reaching out for the _Force_ , when he could have her in his arms instead.

Her body kicked into gear, and she bolted, cheeks burning, vision blurring. Across the narrow hall lay the 'fresher. She could use a cold shower, she thought with a mirthless huff, but instead she continued down the hall to her bedroom.

The dim blue glow of a holobook on the nightstand guided her to the bed. She flopped onto it, flicked on the lamp, and tried to distract herself by reading. She didn't remember what book it even was, but she didn't really care, either. She couldn't read the title, let alone any of the text, for the inner noise. Not only in her mind, but all of her. Every fiber of her _sang_ with need.

It seemed an eternity since she'd been with a man. With Rupan, who worked at the Kwilaan Starport and had always been there to greet her with his open smile whenever her work brought her home. She'd been a little worried he'd be there when she and Obi-Wan passed through, but he hadn't. He'd moved on--as she'd tried, unsuccessfully, to move on from Obi-Wan with him. There had been a few encounters since, but she didn't really do casual. Or casual didn't really do it for her.

 _I need to meditate_ , Obi-Wan's voice played over and over in her mind.

Sabé needed _him_.

She replaced the holobook on the nightstand and got out of bed again. She peeled off her tunic, let it drop to the floor without a care for tidiness--she certainly wasn't sharing the room with Obi-Wan--and went out again in only her sleeveless undervest and leggings.

Rounding the corner of the hall, she caught him turn his head quickly away to face the front of the flat. Sabé took a grim satisfaction that he was apparently having as much difficulty focusing on his meditation as she had on her reading. Although she tried not to look at him, her eyes betrayed her as she crossed behind where he sat on the rug. They raked over the tautness of his neck and shoulders, the tendons in the backs of his hands where they rested on his knees.

The sparring dummy stood in the corner, unused for the past two weeks. _We might train together_ , he'd suggested. Luke and Leia were actually sleeping at the same time, but there Obi-Wan sat, trying to put aside thoughts of doing anything _together_ with her. For half a moment she considered leaving the apartment entirely, slamming the door behind her and waking the babies so he couldn't meditate. But no, that was too much even for this level of frustration.  Sabé grabbed the dummy, careful not to knock it against the crib, and dragged it past him into the dining room. As she pushed the table and chairs into the corner, she resisted the temptation to glance over her shoulder to see if his eyes were still closed.

Keeping her back to him, she got into position, bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of the dummy with an energy she hadn't felt since they'd brought the babies to Keren. She opened with a few quick jabs, but quickly found that the thuds of her fists slamming into the rubber weren't nearly as satisfying as she'd hoped they would be. It was softness she wanted, his mouth yielding to hers, his skin warm and flush against her own…

She attacked the dummy with a couple of side kicks.

What had she thought would happen? That they would fall in love? Raise the twins as their own and live happily ever after, avoiding the Empire?

As she pivoted, her gaze drifted over the dummy's shoulder to the kitchen peninsula, where she'd moved a few of her houseplants to get better light. In the center stood her wish plant with its heart-shaped leaves. _What did you wish for?_ Obi-Wan had asked her a handful of days ago, and she'd blushed.

Clenching her teeth, she wheeled and landed a round kick square in the dummy's chest.

Even as a young woman in her twenties, silly enough to make a childish wish on a karking plant for him, she hadn't been foolish enough to believe it would come true. This was exactly why she'd avoided Coruscant all those years ago. To spare them both the pain and embarrassment of the choice he would inevitably make.

She'd never wanted him to _have_ to make it.

Pausing for breath breath, she glanced his way again. His eyes screwed tightly shut.

Sabé let out a long sigh.

She loved him because of who he was. And who he was was a Jedi. The two were simply incompatible.

But their connection… _It led me to you._

To protect him. And Padmé's children. That was all. And it was no small thing.

She returned the dummy to its corner. Moved the dining table and chairs back into place, her hands lingering on the back of the one that had become his. This was more of him than she'd ever hoped to have. She'd have to content herself with that. She was honored, and humbled, to be a protector of someone who'd devoted his whole life to protecting the galaxy. All she'd ever wanted was to make a difference.

On her way to the 'fresher, she paused in front of him. Obi-Wan raised his face up toward her, opened his eyes. She told herself they weren't still bright with desire as she stared into them to avoid looking at the lips she'd come so close to tasting.

"I'm sorry for being a distraction," she said, and reached out to stroke his cheek.

Sabé heard the sharp intake of his breath, felt the flutter of his eyelashes against her skin as he leaned into her touch. His hand came up from his knee, fingers encircling her wrist to pull it away from his face. The strength of his grip startled her. Did he mean to push her away, or to hold her close? And then his lips blazed a kiss into her palm.

Fire ignited in her skin where his mouth touched it, yet for the second time that evening Sabé stood frozen, brain working to comprehend what her senses told it was happening.

It seemed that Obi-Wan had made a different choice than the one she thought he had.

"I cannot let go of my feelings for you," he rasped, as though he knew her mind. The words were hot on her skin, his beard prickled, and the fire surged upward when his lips moved to her wrist, kissing the pounding pulse point. He raised his eyes, bright as flame, the blade of his saber. "I _will not_."

He gave an insistent tug at her wrist; his other hand grasped her hip. The next moment, without her knowing exactly how it had happened, she was straddling his lap, her arms encircling his neck as he covered her mouth with his own.

This was no tentative first kiss, but a breathtakingly passionate one--especially from a man for whom passion was not supposed to exist. Perhaps that was why, Sabé thought. That, and it had been building between them for ten days…or thirteen years. She held back none of her own fervor, answering the firm press of his lips by sweeping them apart with her tongue. He tasted vaguely of lemon, and the Mandalorian oranges from their salad, and beneath all that, _himself_.

His hands were everywhere--one glided along her arm, the other stroked her hip, then both splayed across her back as he tightened his embrace--and then his lips were, too. When they first left her mouth she made a sound of protest, afraid he might've changed his mind, but it turned to a sigh of pleasure as he trailed kisses along the line of her jaw, behind her ear and down her neck, lingering in the hollow of her collarbone. As if every moment of want she'd seen flicker across his face since Theed culminated here, no longer restrained.

Her fingers raked across his scalp; his slotted into the notches of her rib cage as he relaxed his arms, dragging his hands along her sides. She tilted his head up, bringing his mouth back up to hers as his thumb brushed against the underside of her breast.

Obi-Wan went still, withdrew his hand as if he were unsure whether it was all right to touch her there. In answer, Sabé placed her own hand over it and clasped it to her breast. He resumed kissing her with a moan, which she echoed when he began to stroke, her nipple hardening beneath the pad of his thumb. Much as she wanted to be touched by him in this way, she soon began to feel irritated by the fabric of her undervest, not because it was scratchy or her skin too sensitive, but simply because it was a barrier, albeit an extremely thin one, between them. She could feel the heat of his hand through it. She wanted that against her bare skin.

No sooner had she thought it than his hand left her breast to slip beneath the hem of her vest. She took this as permission to tug at one of the side ties of his tunic.

With a groan, Obi-Wan broke the kiss. "Sabé…"

Although worried she'd been too bold, she loved the husky way he said her name, the lack of focus in his eyes as he leaned back to look at her.

"Before we go any further, I should tell you…As if it won't become abundantly clear…" His eyes darted away, then back to her. "I've never…"

He let the thought suspend.  It took Sabé a moment to work out what he'd left unsaid.

Her eyes widened. "Had sex?"

"Kissed. Touched. Any of it."

Sabé had assumed, when he told her his old master sanctioned a sexual relationship, that it meant he'd had at least one.

"Oh."

She couldn't think of what else to say. What she should do. Perhaps she shouldn't do anything more than they already had.

"I know what to do," Obi-Wan went on, one hand leaving her to push his hair out of his eyes, "just…not from experience. Is that…Do you mind?"

_Did she mind?_

As he looked at her with a vulnerable expression of mingled insecurity and hope, the years seemed to fall away. The greying hair at his temples, his beard, the careworn lines, all faded, and she was looking into the face of the young Jedi she'd fallen irrevocably in love with.

He'd never been with a woman. He wanted the first to be _her_.

She caught his hand where he was still fidgeting with his hair and drew it down between them, clasping it to his chest against his pounding heart.

"Your instincts have been very good so far," she said, then bit her lip against her smile. "But…are you certain this is what you want?"

His grip tightened around her hand, and his gaze on her sharpened to laser precision. "You are _all_ I'm certain of."

Perhaps she should have questioned why her, why _now_. But Obi-Wan's arms were around her and his arousal was beneath her and his face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his uneven, ragged breaths. His lips were swollen from kissing her, hair disheveled from her fingers raking through it. She couldn't question this.

 _He_ gave her a questioning look when she shifted, disentangling herself from his embrace. Sabé kept hold of his hand, and as he'd pulled her to his lap, she drew him to his feet.

"If this is your first time," she said, backing toward the hallway, "we should do it properly." She glanced at the crib, where the babies slept soundly--if not soundlessly--and then back to him, grinning. "With a semblance of privacy."

She led him to her bedroom, where the lamp on the nightstand still glowed. To think that only a few minutes ago she'd come here, frustrated, convinced he didn't want her.

The door had scarcely closed behind them when they resumed where they'd left off, Sabé untying his tunic as Obi-Wan kissed her. She pushed it off his shoulders, delighted to discover them dusted with freckles, and when his hands left her to free his arms from the sleeves, she peeled off her undervest. They shed the rest of their clothes quickly, in a trail to the bed, where they fell together again without pausing to look at each other properly, or even to draw back the quilt.

They should slow down, she thought as he stretched over her. But she'd waited so long already. He was kissing her breasts, his hips rested in the cradle of her thighs, his flushed skin touched every inch of hers, yet she still burned to have him inside her.

She touched his face and said his name; she didn't have to say anything else for him to know what she wanted.

He gazed into her eyes as he started to push in, but soon his eyelids fluttered as he felt her around him. They snapped open again at Sabé's involuntary grunt, concern creasing the corners as he stopped.

"Did that--Did I--?" he began, shifting.

In answer, Sabé grasped the backs of his hips and held him in place as she wrapped her legs around him.

It had been so long since she'd been with a man that it was a little uncomfortable at first. Her body would have to get used to his. But even that thought sent a rush of heat and need through her; she couldn't think of anything she would be more pleased to grow accustomed to than being filled by Obi-Wan. 

She tilted her hips up against his pelvis, grinding a little against him and he slipped a little further in, and finally all the way. When their hips met she thought he might go over the edge immediately. She wouldn't have cared if he did, for the moment of their being joined was so overwhelming that she felt the warm wetness of tears at the corners of her eyes.

They were attached in every way now.

Obi-Wan, managing to hold back, gazed down at himself buried in her. One of Sabé's hands drifted up to settle on his shoulder, tracing the freckles scattered there like a constellation of stars, as she remembered him looking like this at the syzygy of Tatooine's suns.

And then he began to move. He tried to go slowly, but she felt his control erode with each thrust, his pace frenetic and without rhythm, as was the beat of his heart against her chest. He wouldn't last long. _Didn't_ last long. A minute or two, at most, and Obi-Wan collapsed on top of her, his breath coming rapid and ragged in the crook of her neck.

When he caught it, he asked in a voice still husky with exertion, "That was…not supposed to be over so quickly, was it?"

Sabé pinched her lips together against a laugh, but she knew the quiver in her belly against his gave her away. "I think that was about right for a first time," she replied, stroking his hair.

A heavy sigh. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be."

"But did you…?" He pushed up on his elbow to look her in the eye. She wasn't sure whether he was still flushed from sex, or from embarrassment. Both, maybe. "Was it pleasurable for you?"

She hesitated, wanting to answer him in the most precise way that she could, because his desire to please her was so very evident.

"Not in the way you mean," she replied. A frown puckered Obi-Wan's forehead, and he looked away. She touched his face, drawing his gaze back to her as she added, "But in the way that matters, yes. I loved every moment of it."

"Few as there were," he said, dryly.

"You'll last longer next time."

The lines of his face relaxed into a grin. "You want to do it again?"

This time, Sabé made no attempt at stifling her laugh. "Do  you have any idea how long I've wanted you, laserbrain?"

The arch of his eyebrows revealed he did not.

"Of course I want to do it again." She lifted her head to kiss him. "And again, and again." Each iteration was murmured against his lips and punctuated with another kiss, the last lingering before she sank back on the pillows. "I have notions, you know. About Jedi control."

Although she'd loved seeing him utterly without any.

"I shall endeavor to live up to your lofty expectations." He leaned in to kiss her, but turned his face away as a yawn overtook him. His eyelids drooped. "Perhaps after we've slept?"

He slipped out of her, then, and they crawled beneath the sheets, rolling toward each other, legs tangled together in the middle and hands twined against their hearts.

"How long do you think the twins will give us?" Sabé asked, tucking herself beneath his chin, the stroke of his fingers over her hip making her drowsy.

"Not long enough," he murmured, and then his breath deepened and evened into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all who will be celebrating! We're thankful for all our readers and your lovely feedback. <3


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of crying was at odds with the sensation of being kissed.

Sabé must have been dreaming, for it seemed that someone pressed soft lips to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her fingers curling below her chin, then—as a gentle hand tilted her jaw upward—her lips more fully.

A decade and more of daydreams and fantasies about a young Jedi threaded through her foggy mind as she struggled against wakefulness. She didn’t want this dream to end. “Obi-Wan,” she murmured.

A tongue found its way inside, and desire flared with a deep, throbbing insistence as she kissed back. Her hands reached for the hips she knew would be there, pulled them toward her, for she needed—

_Him_.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Obi-Wan was here, kissing her awake, his naked body flush against hers and quite as ready, his sleepy eyes staring in wonder back at her.

“This really happened,” he observed between kisses, as though she needed to hear it as much as he needed to know it.

His smile warmed her, and she reached up to stroke his cheek and beard. “It wasn’t a dream.”

The crying--which also was not a dream--became a wail in two-part harmony as, beyond her bedroom door, an angry duet demanded their attention.

“How long did we sleep?” she asked.

“Not long enough,” he said, repeating his earlier quip with a deadpan blink of his eyes. He glanced at the chrono on her bedside table. “About two hours.”

“Better than nothing.”

Sabé sat up, ran both hands through her disheveled hair, and stood to pluck her silk robe from the hook inside her closet door, feeling Obi-Wan’s eyes on her body as she slipped into it. A glance caught his eyes darting back up to her face, and she rewarded him with a smile as full of mischievous accusation as she could muster on two hours’ sleep.

But she was repaid in kind when he threw back the covers and stood up, naked as the day he was born, and  crossed in front of her to open the door. Once he’d disappeared through it, she closed her mouth and followed him.

He’d retrieved the soft linen pants he normally slept in and now stepped into them, tying the drawstring waist, but he didn’t bother with a shirt. In the soft blue of the night light, Sabé tried not to gape at the movement of muscle across his shoulders and back as he reached into the crib for Luke and carried him to the changing table.

Sabé shook herself and went to the kitchen. Life went on and babies needed to be fed, despite the colossal shift that had taken place in her bedroom a couple of hours ago. Even so, she was powerless to stop her smile as she warmed up two bottles of formula.

By the time she returned, Obi-Wan had changed both babies and settled on the couch with Luke in the crook of his arm. To distract him, Obi-Wan whispered and tickled his chin and nose, which made the boy’s face crinkle adorably. Handing him a bottle, Sabé picked up Leia from the crib, kissed her forehead, and settled across from him with one leg tucked underneath her hip and the other extended. Once she’d popped the nipple in Leia’s mouth, the noise level dropped considerably. Sabé sighed.

Obi-Wan mirrored her position, stretching one leg out so that their calves rested against each other, his heel nestled into the back of her knee and toes caressing her inner thigh as though he couldn’t bear not to touch her even for these few moments while his hands were occupied. Thank the stars she hadn’t anything more taxing to do that feed an infant just now, for the intimate brush of his skin on hers banished all logic and reason.

Over the babies’ heads and the sounds of suckling, they smiled at each other without self-consciousness or reservation. It felt like turning her face to the sun after years spent in the dark.

“All those times I should’ve told you how beautiful you are to me,” he said without preamble, “and now, finally, I can confess it. You are all I’ve ever wanted.”

More than his words, it was his gaze that turned her heart into a drum and her body to fire. It was all she could do not to throw thirteen years of unfulfilled longing at his feet right now and tell him everything. But she wanted to savor this moment and offer him the gift of her own confession when it wouldn’t seem as though she was merely returning a compliment—though _compliment_ couldn’t begin to express the depth of feeling she sensed beneath his words.

“And all this time I thought the Jedi weren’t supposed to _want_ ,” she managed.

“I never claimed I was a perfect Jedi.” His brow wrinkled in amusement. “Ha. That’s something Qui-Gon always said when I would point out how often he strayed from the path.” He shook his head and laughed. “I must have been insufferable.”

“Aren’t we all at some time or another?”

“Hmm. Perhaps I more than most.”

The playful glimmer in his eyes she loved so much was made more potent by a new, unguarded smile she couldn’t help but return. Here they were, sitting together with legs tangled up, barely clothed, as though they’d been doing it for years already. In the dimness she raked her eyes over the flat muscles of his chest, the firm curves of his arms, the freckles and scars. It was as though she’d denied her eyes a whole field of vision until tonight, and now they craved the sight of him.

_This really happened_ , he’d said. She felt her grin broadening until she thought her face might crack open.

“How tired are you?” she asked without thinking.

“Utterly exhausted.” He raised an eyebrow. “And yet.”

“And yet,” she agreed.

He held her gaze for a long moment, until she pressed the ball of her foot into his inner thigh and let it travel upward along the thin sleep garment, stopping just before her toes could make the distraction intolerable. His eyes fluttered closed for a second and he blew out a breath.

“Changing nappies and feeding babies might not be the best aphrodisiac—”

“Sabé,” Obi-Wan cut her off in a matter-of-fact tone. “We could be set upon by a family of chatty Gungans right now and I’d still be unable to resist you.”

Her laughter rang out long and loud before she could stifle it, but a quick look revealed that the children were still awake, though they’d finished their milk.

Obi-Wan reached for the two burp cloths hanging on the edge of the crib and handed Sabé one. After she’d placed Leia on her shoulder and was patting her back, she looked back at Obi-Wan to find him watching her with a ravenous expression, even as he smiled.

“Want to do it again?” she asked, breathless from the heady concoction of euphoria and desire muddled with fatigue.

He swallowed, nodded. “More than anything.”

“All right, then,” she said briskly, standing up and pressing her lips to Leia’s head once more. “You’re a precious girl, Leia, but it’s the middle of the night. Off to sleep with you.”

“Let’s not argue with the women,” Obi-Wan whispered conspiratorially into Luke’s ear before he placed him next to Leia in the crib and gave his tummy another rub.

As always, the two infants turned their heads toward each other, pinkies touching, eyes blinking.

Sabé watched and waited, then frowned. “They don’t seem sleepy at all.”

“Not a bit.” A pause. “I could…” Obi-Wan wiggled his fingers and raised his eyebrows.

“You mean use the Force?”

He pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“Obi-Wan!” As shocked as she was that he’d suggest such a thing, she couldn’t help giggling. “That should only be for emergencies! As in, we’re pursued by the Empire and the children are drawing attention and—” Her laughter cut off suddenly with a jolt of fear, her cheeks flushed with shame. “I shouldn’t joke about that.”

“It’s all right,” Obi-Wan said at once. He placed a hand on her warm cheek and kissed her lips. She sank into the kiss, into _him_ , a blissful oblivion sweeping away worry as her need for him grew. “I shouldn’t have joked about it, either,” he said, forehead resting against hers. “These are strange times we live in. One more reason I’m amazed that you’re here. With me.”

“Perhaps it _is_ an emergency,” she said in between kisses. “Thirteen years in the making.”

Cradling her jaw in his hands, he murmured his agreement.

The give-and-take of their embrace was intoxicating. As he was only a few inches taller, their bodies were well matched; at times it felt as though he directed her hips and mouth against his own, at others she led him. Finally Obi-Wan glanced into the crib and, seeing the children had fallen asleep again, grasped Sabé’s hand to take her back to the bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut, he untied the sash of on her robe, pushed it back from her shoulders, and there it hung, for she couldn’t bear to remove her fingers from his hair or her lips from his. His hand swept over her back underneath the robe, cupped one buttock, and slid along her thigh to hitch her leg up and press her hard against him. They staggered backward until his back was against the door, where she ground into him until he moaned into her mouth.

But then he pivoted so that it was Sabé against the door, and his hand traveled down to find the center of her desire. “I intend to be a quick study, but I need a teacher,” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “ _Show me_.”

Breathless, Sabé nodded and placed her fingers over his.

“Ah,” he said with a smile, and began moving slowly and deliberately.

Obi-Wan _was_ a quick study, for not only did he replicate the motion she’d shown him, but he picked up on the cues her body gave him as her hips rocked into his hand, demanding more pressure or a change in speed. She thought she’d go mad with his want pressing into her hip and his tongue curling inside her mouth, his golden eyelashes fluttering open every so often to make certain that what he was doing was right.

And here it was, she could feel the precipice, he’d brought her so close…but she wanted _him_ again.

“Now,” she commanded as she reached for the drawstring of his sleep pants and tugged it loose. Only when he’d released her to push the garment to his ankles did she finally let her robe drop to the floor.

They fell together onto the bed again and Obi-Wan slid slowly, exquisitely into her, and for several moments all they could do was breathe. Then he began kissing her, and his body moved, his long thrusts seeking the same rhythm his fingers had just discovered. Sabé adjusted her hips and pressed her palms into his lower back. Following her lead, he shifted his position and began again, each motion achingly measured, bringing her ever closer to that ecstatic surrender…

She cried out when it happened, and he wasn’t long behind, his body pumping hard into hers, his breath and lips hot against her neck.

They remained tangled together, sweaty and panting, for several heartbeats. Then Obi-Wan pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked down at her.

“Did you—was that—?”

Sabé nodded. “Oh, yes.”

With eyes crinkling, his sudden smile lit up his face like the sunrise over an ocean, and it was glorious. His mouth stretched so wide Sabé might have counted all of his teeth, had she the inclination for such an odd endeavor; but somehow it seemed as though his face was made for smiling this way. The years fell away, and he looked again like the young man she’d fallen for so long ago. It was first truly joyful smile she’d ever seen on him, and her heart swelled with love.

“I said I hoped I’d make you smile under better circumstances,” Sabé remembered. “I never imagined this would be the circumstance.”

He chuckled as they extricated themselves from each other’s bodies, crawled under the covers, and lay on their sides facing each other with hands clasped, foreheads together.

“I feel somehow that my circumstances have changed for the better,” he whispered. “And for good.”

~*~

Sabé was back in Theed, inside Padmé’s royal apartment, feeling insignificant within the immaculate and well-appointed expanse of rooms Naboo bequeathed to its queens. As she crossed to the sitting area, the polished marble floor reflected the ceiling back at her so that she didn’t quite know which way was up. It was disorienting. But she’d been here before, and she knew her way out.

There was the balcony, and there were the familiar robes billowing in a breeze. Sabé’s heart leapt. She made her way toward the grand arched doorway, plodding as though the air were suddenly viscous and wanted to prevent her passage. She reached, called Obi-Wan’s name.

But it was Padmé who turned around. Padmé, her hair hanging lank over her shoulders, her body bound in unfamiliar dark robes. Funereal garments? Sith robes? The dead woman’s mouth opened in terror and cried out.

_Where is he?_

Sabé woke with a start and sat bolt upright, chest heaving as she panted.

The chrono told her another hour had passed, but the twins made no sound. Silently she cursed herself for not being able to sleep when the babies actually would allow it. She looked around for the reassuring sight of Obi-Wan, and there he was, still asleep on his side. A tear leaked from one eye and dripped across his nose onto the sheets.

It should come as no surprise that he still had nightmares.

Lying down again, she turned toward him and placed a hand on his bare shoulder. The set of his mouth relaxed a little, his brow unfurrowed, and slowly his breathing became more regular.

Eventually she drifted off and spent the rest of her sleep in nightmares where, even though Padmé screamed, Sabé could not find her.

Apparently satisfied with _their_ short night’s sleep, the twins woke before dawn, and so the day began. Ongoing responsibilities of nappy changes, bottle feedings, and baby holding, mingled with attempts to battle the apartment’s tendency toward disorder and to cook and eat something reasonably healthy, kept Sabé and Obi-Wan as busy as always. Despite the fatigue due to lack of sleep caused by their own amorous endeavors, the air between them was no longer fraught with stifled action and longing. Outside a steady drizzle fell, with no signs of clearing before their evening walk, but shared smiles brightened their haggard faces and the gloomy space around them.

Sabé took a few minutes to send an encrypted message to Bail Organa to assure him, and by extension Yoda, that all was well and that she would continue to check in periodically. A pang in her chest reminded her that she and Obi-Wan would eventually have to make some hard decisions, but she shoved the thoughts away as she replied to a few messages from friends and colleagues in the Rebellion. She shut off the datapad just as Obi-Wan had finished drawing a warm bath in the babies’ little tub. It would be nice for them to be freshly bathed before the medical droid arrived for their checkup later.

Accompanying all the activity was a warm, satisfied feeling in her gut. She was happy. And so was Obi-Wan. Even the twins seemed more content today, as though somehow they sensed the resolution of the feelings between their caregivers and approved of this new harmony.

But as happy as they were, the adults were drained. Just before noon, Sabé’s poor concentration caused her to overheat some leftovers and burn them, and she scraped them into the trash bin with a loud, “Kark it!” Hungry and with short fuses, they resorted to oatmeal for lunch. Later Obi-Wan tripped over the chair he’d neglected to push back under the table and stumbled--which wouldn’t have angered him had Leia not been in his arms at the time. Tempers flared, but apologies and forgiveness followed, particularly after they’d each taken a quick shower (“A mini-holiday!” Sabé had declared) and felt distinctly more human again, if not more awake.

Mid-afternoon, with the twins settled for their naps, Obi-Wan pulled out his datapad and sat at the dining table to read the latest holos aloud while Sabé did some preparation for their evening meal. A salad could be eaten no matter how long it might be delayed, so she chopped up crisp lettuce, purple radishes, and one of the manta pears Obi-Wan had insisted they buy at the market two days ago. He’d promised that later he would braise some bruallki to go with it, which would be simple enough to reheat should they be interrupted.

“What’s this?” Obi-Wan said, resting a finger over his mustache as he leaned forward in his chair to peer more closely at the datapad.

“What’s what?”

“ _K_ _IDNAPPINGS REPORTED_ ,” he read with a grim glance up at Sabé. “ _T_ _heed officials have reported several kidnappings--”_ Here he paused as though hesitant to go on. _“--of infants, mainly from inhabitants of easily-accessible houseboats that survived the bombings of the Trade Federation blockade. Law enforcement considers these kidnappings related, perhaps executed by the same perpetrator or a group of them, though it is not out of the question that the crimes may have been committed by individuals hoping to locate former queen Padmé Amidala’s rumored living baby. Despite any proof, gossip holos continue to insist that her child was born before her death, and as a result several lawsuits have been filed by Amidala’s surviving family members against such tabloids. Meanwhile, a number of  separate demands for ransom have been delivered to Queen Apailana and to the Naberrie family--_ ”

“Stop,” said Sabé. She slid the salad bowl into the refrigeration unit and stood again, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I can’t--it’s just too horrible.”

When she removed her hands, she opened her eyes to find Obi-Wan staring at the children’s crib, his mouth a thin line.

“What have we done?” she whispered over the thunder of her pulse in her ears. “Yoda was right. We should have stayed on Polis Massa. It’s too dangerous on-planet--”

“No,” said Obi-Wan, setting down the datapad and crossing to wrap an arm around her waist. He lifted her chin so she’d look at him. “This feels--has always felt to me-- _right_ with the Force. Which means it’s right for Luke and Leia.” He kissed her. “And for us.”

It was what Sabé wanted to hear, and he seemed to mean it. But did that make it true? Hadn’t the Force misled the Jedi in the past? But these were questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

As if he sensed her doubt, Obi-Wan went on. “Besides, the kidnappings took place in Theed, where Padmé lived. Do you really think anyone would search elsewhere?”

“We can’t be complacent.”

“I agree,” he said, running a hand through the strands of hair at her neck. “We won’t let our guard down. This rumor will likely fade away, and the kidnappings will stop. The people miss their queen and senator. They want a piece of her to hold onto and will grasp at anything.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Sabé wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his neck. His distinctive scent--scrubbed skin, fresh grass, and pure masculinity--coupled with the warm, strong hand on the back of her neck made her eyes close. She could stand here all afternoon.

“Sabé.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re falling asleep. Go take a nap.”

Without opening her eyes, she smiled. “But you’re so comfortable.”

A low chuckle rumbled against her cheek.

“Go,” he said, gently steering her toward the bedroom and ushering her through the door with a hand at the small of her back. “I’ll fold that mountain of laundry so we can relax tonight.”

Sabé was continually astounded by how much clothing two babies could dirty in one day, and she thanked the Maker once more for her small washer-dryer unit in the ‘fresher. She’d left the most recently laundered pile on the couch mid-morning, which had forced the adults to feed the twins at the dining room table; but neither she nor Obi-Wan had had the energy to think of folding all those tiny garments.

But after Obi-Wan shut the door behind him, she looked down at the unmade bed, sheets entwined as their bodies had been in the wee hours of the morning, and she found that no matter how exhausted she felt, she didn’t want to sleep alone.

Opening the door to stick her head out, she spied Obi-Wan standing in front of the grey and white heap on the couch with one arm tucked under the other while his thumb and forefinger rubbed at his eyes.

When he opened them, Sabé beckoned him in with a jerk of her head. “Come on, then,” she said. “We’ll relax after the kids are grown.”

Apparently too tired to be noble about it, he shook his head with a grin and joined her under the covers, where they nearly defeated the whole purpose of the nap by starting to kiss. Sleepy kisses became passionate ones, which in turn became sleepy again, until she awoke an hour later facing him with her leg still draped over his hip and his hand cupping her breast under her tunic, though they hadn’t managed to disrobe or do anything more than kiss and grope. His breath tickled her forehead as he slept, and a slow smile stole across her face. Was such happiness truly theirs, after all this time? After everything? Despite their losses, they’d both gained more than either of them could have hoped for, and she felt a profound contentment.

Until the stomping upstairs told her Linz was home from her day job and the babies woke from their nap.

~*~

As it happened, the laundry didn’t get folded until the following morning. Sabé and Obi-Wan kept each other awake when they should have slept, but as they were already fatigued beyond imagination neither of them seemed bothered by it; or perhaps their sleep deficit was so great at this point that punchiness had taken over in full. Though their minds were slow from exhaustion, smiles and laughter were quick. It had been so long since Sabé had been with a man that their encounters had created a pleasant ache, which gave her a strange, private satisfaction. But whenever Obi-Wan put his hands on her she wanted him again, and he was just as ready each time she reached for him.

She sat now on the couch feeding Leia as Obi-Wan placed the folded baby clothing back into the cabinet, which afforded her the view of his broad shoulders narrowing to a trim waist beneath his pale grey tunic and dark pants. Neither of them wore shoes inside the apartment, and even the simple familiarity of being barefoot together during their domestic tasks gave her a thrill. She felt like a giddy teenager as she admired the tendons and smooth, fair skin of his feet as he padded around the small space.

To distract herself, Sabé began to hum an old Naboo folk tune, one her mother had sung to her at night when she was a child. Leia’s slate grey eyes peered up at her in interest over the bottle, so she decided to sing the words.

“ _I_ _’ll take you to the orchard, where grass is so green_

_I’ll take you to the waterfall, where we’ll drink our fill_.”

Leia stopped suckling and stared, entranced.

“ _Never fear, my love, I’ll carry you_

_And when I’m weak, you’ll carry me_.”

Sabé had just fed Luke, but she saw his little hands waving in the crib; perhaps he liked music, too.

“ _We’ll go to the mountain and sing out together_

_We’ll go to the desert and stand against darkness_

_Never fear, my love, I’ll carry you_

_And when I’m weak, you’ll carry me_.”

Obi-Wan had stilled when she began to sing, and now he turned to face her as he leaned against the desk, arms folded and a smile playing on his lips. She flushed but went on, though she had to bring her gaze back to the baby in her arms. Even so, unexpected emotion flooded her chest and she had to finish the song through a tightening throat.

“ _You’ll sleep by my side and never feel cold_

_We’ll sleep in our grave and keep our secrets_

_Never fear, my love, I’ll carry you_

_And when I’m weak, you’ll carry me_.”

Looking at the girl in her arms, she blinked away tears until she’d composed herself and could raise her gaze to her lover.

“That was beautiful,” Obi-Wan said quietly, his face now serious.

Sabé cleared her tight throat and smiled. “It’s about the Handmaiden and the Cursed Prince. That was her song to him. Or so it goes.”

“Then the story has a happy ending?”

She nodded. “The Handmaiden saved him. But the Prince wanted to be saved.”

“Did she lift the curse?”

“Well,” said Sabé. “Many people believe she did. But my mother told me there was never a curse. No mother would do that to her child, no matter what evil thing he might’ve done.”

“The curse was of his own making.”

“Exactly. He had to let it go when he was ready.”

“That...makes sense.” Now Obi-Wan spoke through a voice constricted by emotion.

Sabé stood up to nestle Leia in the crib next to her brother, then turned to take Obi-Wan in her arms. He melted into her, and they stood that way for a long while.

~*~

A slow awareness of being tangled up with Obi-Wan’s warm body seeped into Sabé’s consciousness. Keeping her eyes shut, she felt all the places where they connected: her thigh and ankle between his legs, their stomachs pressed together, her breasts against his chest, her arm draped over his ribs with fingertips tucked under his hip behind him, his arm resting heavily over her shoulder with his fingers in her hair, his lips parted and softly breathing into the spot where her forehead met her hairline.

Lying naked with him had become her most favorite way of sleeping, and a more potent aphrodisiac she could not imagine. Lazily savoring the sensation, she ground her hips into him slowly, rhythmically. Sudden desire, hot and unrelenting, pooled between her legs as she felt his body respond to hers even in sleep.

Or was he asleep? His lips brushed her forehead as his pelvis met her next movement and coaxed from her a soft moan.

Sabé opened her eyes a crack. It was dawn. Wan grey light filtered through the white curtains on either side of the curved wooden headboard.  In the morning dimness, his pale shoulders looked as smooth and perfect as marble. She let her gaze flicker up to his face. His eyes were still closed, the planes of his face relaxed. But sensing her change in position, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her deeply, breathing contentedly as their tongues met.

Gently, she pulled her leg free. Kissing him once more, she shifted slightly away that so that she was on her back with her body perpendicular to him, both legs draped over his hip. She closed her eyes.

He slid into her.

She felt his hands grasp her hips to hold her steady against him as he moved with painstaking leisure, and she skimmed her fingers downward to touch herself. Obi-Wan moaned, for he adored how she took her own pleasure when they were joined this way. Still she didn’t open her eyes, wanting instead just to _feel_ him, his motion, the fullness of him inside her body.

It happened quickly this time, and Sabé gasped at the strength of her release, which was intensified moments later by Obi-Wan’s growl at his own climax.

As soon his shudders stopped, he held one of her legs and moved so that he was on top with her legs over his shoulders. She loved him like this, the muscles of his arms in sharp definition as he held himself up, his eyes shining so blue as they gazed at her with unspoken feeling, as they did now. Bending low, with their bodies still connected, he captured her mouth and kissed her ravenously.

Sabé decided she could wake up like this every morning for the rest of her life.

As though he’d read her thoughts, he breathed into her lips, “Good morning, my love.”

Her heart stuttered. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

Foolishly, the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, her tone far more joking than the hammering of her heart warranted. “Am I?”

Obi-Wan’s quiet smile could have been answer enough, for the love she read in his eyes was plainer than words could ever have been. But he answered aloud, “You know it to be true.”

A lump in her throat prevented her speaking for a moment. She reached a hand up to run her fingers through his beard, then her thumb across his lower lip, which he kissed as it passed. Finally she managed, “What do your senses tell _you_?”

He looked at her for a moment before he whispered, “What I should have known for some time now.”

~*~

Luke and Leia lay on their stomachs, grunting and peering at each other as they lifted their heads and let them fall back to the blanket spread over the plush rug. Belly time was good training, Sabé’s downstairs neighbor--an Alderaanian expatriate who had three children--had told them, for developing strength and coordination of those little neck muscles, and she and Obi-Wan sat on the floor with their backs against the seat of the couch and watched while Sabé took another holovid of them. They’d started trying to chronicle as many of these little moments as they could, for as the children grew they became more and more interesting, delighting the adults with their sounds and movements. Even so young, their personalities remained very different. Obi-Wan liked to call Leia “the angry one” and Luke “the whiny one,” but Sabé knew those were terms of affection.

He’d pulled down the history of Keren and was flipping through it again until he found the section about the Knights of Ren. The information was limited, and he’d read and reread it several times already, looking for answers he hadn’t found before.

He read aloud to Sabé, who switched off the holovid to listen. “ _The rumored founder of K’Ren was a Force user and poet known as Amaar Ren. His real name is not known, as he assumed the name ‘Ren’ from a Force vision he claimed to have had while meditating. Legend has it that Ren quickly amassed Force-sensitive followers, whom he hesitated to call his students. His most strongly held beliefs included fostering autonomy and self-direction through the Force, and harnessing not only all aspects of the human experience but every facet of the Force. He stressed a holistic experience of the body and mind as the purest way to access one’s abilities and talents, and he refused to uphold any ideology as the correct one, sending Force users  away when they became too rigid or dogmatic in their approach. Amaar Ren’s fate is unknown. Some stories say he was killed by one of his followers. Others say he died battling the Jedi. Still others suggest he was assassinated by the Sith_ . _After his death, it seems that the Knights of Ren, as they called themselves at that time, scattered themselves throughout the galaxy where they held themselves apart from Jedi and Sith alike._ ”

“A poet?” asked Sabé. “Has any of his work survived?”

“Apparently,” said Obi-Wan as he turned to the index in the back of the history. “It lists several old paper publications where his poems were reprinted.” His brow furrowed. “Wait. I know that title.”

“Let me see.” Sabé leaned over his shoulder to read where he pointed. She laughed. “ _A Collection of Naboo Love Songs_. Really?”

“How do I know that?” Obi-Wan shut the book and scrubbed a hand over his beard. “It’s--wait. Wait.” His eyes went far away as his hand framed some unseen memory as though he could snatch it if he held still long enough to let it come to him. “Qui-Gon showed me some poetry. More than once. Remember I told you how he said I should learn about love? Pursue a relationship if I wished?”

Of course she remembered. His words had given her the thread of hope that perhaps, like his master, Obi-Wan might be open to the idea of “companionship.” Thinking of how embarrassed and determined she’d been to ask him, under the ruse of finding out if he’d been Padmé’s lover, Sabé smiled. Things had changed between them so completely, and in such a short time.

“That was the book, I’m sure of it,” he said, setting down the history of Keren and shifting to face Sabé, eyes bright. “There was one poem in particular that we discussed until I thought I’d go mad with frustration, because Qui-Gon and I disagreed on every point. And it was by someone named Ren. It must have been Amaar Ren.”

“Can you remember it?”

He grinned. “Every line.”

Sabé turned toward him and wrapped her arms around her knees, waiting.

Obi-Wan became quiet as he collected his thoughts. He took a deep breath and, while he spoke, it seemed that the room narrowed until it contained just the two of them.

“ _You may seek and never find_

_Until you find what you never sought_

_It draws you_

_Let go, you’ll fly_

_Into its arms_

_Permission granted_

_Though you no longer require it_

_And the secret of all_

_Becomes yours.”_

By the time he said the last lines, his voice was barely a murmur. He raised a hand to cradle her cheek, leaned forward, and brushed her lips with his. When he sat back, he regarded her with something akin to reverence, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

“I wish I could tell Qui-Gon that at last I understand.”

Now Sabé had to take a moment to gather herself, for she felt his love as a gentle ocean wave that swept her along--calm, warm, irresistible. She let it take her.

“I know he had faith in you,” she said when she found her voice again. She crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and his hands ran over her back as she settled. “I saw how you were together.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Obi-Wan chuckled. “You saw me at my most unbearable.”

“When Qui-Gon and Padmé bartered for parts while you and I were on that blasted ship!”

“To my everlasting chagrin.”

She laughed. “You were so polite to me.”

“You were the _queen_ ,” he retorted with a raised eyebrow.

“In my memory, you were polite to everyone except for Qui-Gon.”

Now he joined in her laughter. “That sounds about right.”

“So what disagreements did you have about that poem?”

“Well,” he said, slipping his hands under her tunic to feel the skin of her back, “because I knew that a Force user had written it, I was convinced it was only about the Force, but Qui-Gon said it was about love. The lines about ‘the secret of all becomes yours’ in particular irked me. I thought ‘all’ meant ‘everything,’ as in ‘all knowledge.’ He insisted that ‘all’ meant ‘every _one_ .’ The secret that everyone knows, meaning love, is what really matters. That once a Jedi embraces physical and emotional love, he will be a more complete vessel for the Force to work through.” He paused. “I was young and foolish. I thought he was mistaken. Now I see that _I_ was.”

“A wise man never stops learning,” said Sabé. She planted a kiss on his cheekbone, below his eye, and he snuck a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

“Qui-Gon often said that very thing,” he murmured, kissing his way along her jaw. “It filled me with righteous indignation. Every.” A kiss. “Single.” Another. “Time.”

“I suspect that never stopped you saying it to Anakin.”

Obi-Wan barked with laughter. “No, it did not,” he said through his chortling.

It took Sabé a moment to realize that this was the first time he’d spoken of Anakin without a wince of horror and grief.

When he hungrily covered her mouth with his, she knew that he realized it, too.


	8. Chapter 8

_Weeks after a series of kidnappings occurred on Naboo, a growing number of child abductions are being reported throughout the Empire. While the incidents on Naboo may or may not be connected with conspiracy theories surrounding the death of the late Senator Amidala, these new cases are no less rife with speculation. Dozens claim the missing children share the common trait of being Force-sensitive, the latest targets of Emperor Palpatine's plan to eliminate the Jedi threat._

Obi-Wan's gaze flicked from the datapad to the bedroom door. It stood ajar, allowing him to hear the children, should they cry out, but the only sound in the apartment was the patter of the shower across the hall; he could see nothing more than a sliver of darkness, the faint glow of the nightlight by the crib  not bright enough to reach around the corner.

His fingers curled, thumb twitched at the thought of his lightsaber tucked away in the living room with Luke and Leia. The sheets rustled as he pushed them back, but he checked the impulse to go and see that all was well.

 _You're a Jedi, Kenobi_ , he thought. _Or were_. _Eyes and ears aren't your only senses_.

And he sensed nothing in the flat but babies sleeping peacefully, Sabé showering at the end of a long but not unpleasant day, and his own paranoia.

He settled beneath the covers again and read on.

_The Emperor himself was unavailable for comment, but a spokesperson gave an official statement: "One need look no further than the Jedi themselves to find the perpetrators of these tragic crimes against galactic families. The Dagoyan Masters have long condemned the Jedi for their routine abduction of infants and young children. No doubt the few survivors of Order 66 are desperate to replenish their ranks. They will be rooted out and punished for the lawlessness and corruption they continue to sow across the galaxy.'"_

At the end of the article was a link to an updated list of fugitive Jedi. Obi-Wan touched it, scrolled through the familiar holographic faces of his Order. So few, so very few; barely more than one hundred when once ten thousand devoted their lives to upholding peace in the Republic. He nearly swiped past his own image, recognizing it only belatedly. It was several years old, from the Clone Wars, and he looked like a different man. His beard was shorter now, his hair longer, but the change ran deeper than that. For all the Jedi High General had known the evils of war, his experience wasn't what it was now.

He hadn't yet lost everything.

Nor had he gained a world he'd never known he wanted.

Switching off the datapad, Obi-Wan placed it on the bedside table and sank back into the pillows with a deep exhale.

He loved Sabé's bedroom, which he'd shared with her for the past month. For one, he could stretch out to full length in the bed, as he couldn't on the couch he'd inhabited for the first two weeks here. There was more to it than mere physical comfort, though. She'd taken as much care in this private space as she had in the common areas of her home. He pictured her with sleeves pushed up, rolling paint onto the walls which suggested the hues of the lake not visible from her windows and evoked a sense of tranquility. In contrast, her hodgepodge of simple wooden furniture--a dresser (which contained his clothes now, as well as hers), two bedside tables, the headboard of the low bed--lent an earthy warmth. White textiles, with small accents of greys and browns, kept it all from being too dark, too weighted down; in the mornings, unbleached linen curtains filtered the gentle light by which they made love on the few occasions the twins hadn't woken before dawn.

And of course, Sabé herself was the feature that most attached him to this room.

"You haven't fallen asleep, have you?"

Her voice, low but lilting with amusement, made him open his eyes. He hadn't realized they'd been closed as he conjured the room around him from memory--from _heart_. Lifting his head, he saw her standing at the foot of the bed, slender legs extending from beneath the hem of her towel, hair almost black against her pale skin as it curled in wet waves over her shoulders.

"No," Obi-Wan replied. "I was just meditating."

He had, at last, got back into this practice--and recently Sabé had begun to join him--though at the moment he was only joking, and she knew it. Her eyes glimmered with silent laughter, the bedside lamp reflected in them like twin golden suns setting against the ruddy backdrop of the sky.

"On what?" she asked.

"The color palette of your bedroom. It's a very Jedi aesthetic, you know."

Her eyebrows went up at this, and she glanced around, as though this hadn't occurred to her before. "Then I suppose it's very convenient that I fell in love with a Jedi to share it with."

"I suppose it is." Obi-Wan kept his reply teasing, though inwardly he buckled at how fully she'd opened her home and her heart to him. "I wish…"

He trailed off as he turned his head on the pillow to watch her move to the window, where she'd relocated some of her houseplants. Clutching her towel to her chest, she bent to pluck off a shriveled leaf and glanced over her shoulder at him.

"You wish what?"

"That I had anything to give you."

Her smile faltered as she held his gaze, but reappeared when she turned back to her plants.

Softly, she said, "I wished for you."

Obi-Wan did not at first understand her meaning, then he noticed which plant she was tending.  Remembered his own question, asked weeks earlier, which she'd deflected self-consciously. Now it was he who felt warmth prickle over him.

"You said Padmé gave you the wish plant when you left her service. That was…five years ago, wasn't it?"

An expression flickered across her face which looked almost offended.

"I've loved you for much longer than that," Sabé said, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. She rested her hand over his where it lay on his stomach. "Do you know how distracted I was by you when we were stranded on Tatooine? Two days aboard a starship with a handsome young Jedi apprentice, and I was supposed to be thinking about complex matters of state."

"I believe I have an idea of your distraction," he ground out through his teeth as her fingers stroked the backs of his knuckles--and then lower.

Sabé laughed, nose crinkling in the way he loved.

"You did an excellent job of hiding it," Obi-Wan went on, though _his_ body allowed him to do nothing of the sort. Not that he wanted it to. "I had no notion that you were thinking of anything but the Trade Federation blockade--"

"Clearly I'm not doing this properly if you can pronounce those words."

With a wicked gleam, Sabé pulled back the blankets. Her brows drew together in something like dismay when she saw he was wearing sleeping pants. Hastily, Obi-Wan shifted to tug them down over his hips. Her warm fingers drifted over his abdomen as the other hand uncurled to let her towel fall.

"You were the queen," he said.

"So you said," the now naked Sabé replied, nudging the towel off the edge of the bed. "And that was when."

 _Thirteen years in the making_ , she'd said the night they consummated their relationship, and only now did he fully comprehend. Since they'd stood on the palace balcony together, and he'd taken her hand and that connection first flickered to life between them. The flame had burned steadily through their time apart until it flared at last into what could only be named _love_.

But that was him. Sabé had said _that was when_.

"How were you so certain?" he murmured, placing his palm on her knee. "You hardly knew me."

"But I did," she replied. "That night, you opened yourself to me."

He supposed he had. And hadn't he sensed on Tatooine that Sabé had shown her innermost self, before Padmé revealed her true identity?

"I felt something between us," she went on. "Something almost physical. It's hard to explain."

Her gaze drifted away, but returned when Obi-Wan moved his fingers above her knee and gave her thigh a light squeeze, and a smile. "I felt it, too."

Her sweet confession was yet another gift which made him long to bestow one upon her in kind. He sat upright, cupping her small breasts in his hands as she moved to straddle his lap. Her nipples stood against the pads of his thumbs as she lowered herself onto him with as much familiarity and ease as if they'd been doing this for all these years. If they had, he thought he would still wonder every time at the way their bodies fit together, the way her eyes closed and her lips parted with a gasp of pleasure at the moment of their joining. Her head fell back, and he leaned in to kiss the curve of her throat.

"What I felt for you in that moment, Sabé…"

…was not the same as what she had, but he hoped she would understand its significance nonetheless. And that she wouldn’t think it _in_ significant. For it had not been, for a young man like him. She'd made him remember he _was_ a man. The handmaiden had danced through his dreams, at times as the burning flame of sunset, at others the healing coolness of a river flowing to the sea, but always there, illuminating his path and guiding him gently onward. He’d thought the Force had resisted these thoughts, tried to steer him aright, but now he knew the resistance was his alone.

"It was unlike anything I'd ever before felt for a woman. Or have for any other since."

Or would for anyone else again.

Sabé rocked her hips down into his, brushed smiling lips to his mouth as he gave a low groan.

"I made a wish for a Jedi." She rolled her hips forward to slide upward along his length. "I had no expectation that it would ever come true."

One of his hands found its way from her breast to the arch of her back, fingertips slotting between the notches of her vertebrae, while she weaved hers through the hair at his nape. Their position mirrored their first kiss, just after he’d tried to resist one more time, and he realized he’d never told her what he’d finally learned during that last meditation.

"The Force said _yes_ ," he murmured. This, too, was difficult to explain, but Sabé went still in his arms, except for her fingers softly stroking his hair as she gazed into his eyes.

Of course she understood. She always understood him. Always saw.

"I have your love," she said. "You don't need to give me anything else."

Obi-Wan kissed her, deeply, tongue curling around hers. His hand splayed to span across her back and keep her body pressed tight to his as he shifted them so that she lay on her back and he covered her.

She did have his love. All of it, all of _him_. Every fiber of his body, every breath, and every beat of his heart devoted to showing her.

In all his life, the only thing he'd pursued so single-mindedly was the Force, and he'd feared at first that giving himself over to the physical in this way would take him even further afield from it. But since Anakin's betrayal, the Force already felt unreachable. When Obi-Wan reached out for Sabé, he'd nearly been overcome by the discovery that it was here, in this room, in _her_.  

It shouldn't have come as such a revelation. Since he was a little child in the temple, he'd known that the Force surrounded and penetrated all things. Known--but not understood.

For some moments after changing their position, he lay without moving in the cradle of her thighs, focused on the present. On how it felt to fill her tight warmth. On how she filled him with the bold sweep of her tongue between his lips. How she grasped his buttocks, drawing him in deeper, and he cupped her jaw to meld their mouths together.

Beneath him, Sabé tilted her pelvis, angling away from him and down into the mattress. Obi-Wan slid his lips from hers, disentangled his arms from around her, pushing up on his palms as he withdrew his length to the tip. Once again he paused, held his body over hers, and prolonged the moment, taking advantage of the opportunity to look down at her.

Hair unbound and fanned out on the turned-back blanket. Heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him. Lips parted and panting. Nipples pink at the peaks of her breasts. Stomach cinched inward, quivering with her rapid breath.

He'd acknowledged beauty before, admired it--in an objective, impersonal way. Not until Sabé had his eyes looked and stirred him to partake of that beauty, to be a part of it.

He sank into her again, watching himself disappear into her mound. Narrow hips slotted just between hers. A perfect fit, as if each of their bodies had been made to accommodate the other.

There was nothing of _crude matter_ about Sabé, or about being with her in this way. Her physical form was luminous.

"You're so beautiful," he told her, as he did every time, for every time he was in awe of her like this, naked and open to him.

As they were meant to come to the Force, possessing nothing but a willing spirit.

Sabé's smile bloomed on lips reddened by his kisses. "So are you."

Returning her smile, Obi-Wan couldn't resist teasing her a little. "Beautiful's an improvement over wise, I suppose."

"Did I say you looked wise? Only I'm sure I meant _sarcastic_."

"That's not a look."

"On you it is. Sarcastic, but also…" Sabé's palms rested on his chest, then slid up to his neck, her thumbs stroking his jawline as she drew his head back down to her mouth; the rasp of his beard was audible amidst their breathing. She mumbled against his lips, "…very handsome."

But not a bit wise. For a wise man would have understood long before now that if the Force was created by every living thing and bound the galaxy together, then connection with another person could not separate him from it.

Lowering himself onto one forearm, Obi-Wan hooked his hand under her shoulder and kissed her with greater intent, his mouth swallowing up the her whimper of pleasure when he ground his hips against hers in the circular movement he knew she loved. Sabé's ecstasy throbbed all through him, impossible to distinguish from his own. She wrapped her legs around him, hooked her ankles together at the bottom of his spine, driving him deeper, desperately close to the edge. Sensing how near she was, too, his free hand found hers, laced their fingers together on the pillow above her head. Although he wanted every part of himself entwined with her, he tore his mouth from hers so he could watch the moment she came apart beneath him.

Their kiss was broken, but not their connection. Eyes locked together, her pupils blown wide. Sabé clung so hard to his hand that he couldn't feel it anymore, but he didn't care because she was taking him with her over the precipice. It didn't feel like falling. He soared, carried by her, carrying her. Or maybe both of them were held together in the invisible arms of something they had made together.

When he fell asleep, they were still joined.

~*~

_"Wake up."_

Sabé's whisper slid into his consciousness, roused him. Light, brilliant light reached his eyes through closed lids. Even without opening them he knew it filled the bedroom, which was strange because the children never slept that late. A smile stretched across his face as he rolled away from the brightness, still without opening his eyes, and reached for Sabé in bed beside him. The prospect of spending the first moments of the day buried in her was enough to make him hard, though he'd fallen asleep after making love to her only a handful of hours before.

Instead of her warm, bare skin, his fingers met cool, empty air.

He cracked open his eyes, but the light was too blinding. "Sabé?"

"Come and see, Ben," she whispered.

 _Was_ it a whisper? Or was she speaking from far away? And had she said, _Come and see, Ben_ or _Come and see Ben_? The thoughts slid sluggishly through his mind, like ice in a frozen river. Perhaps he hadn't slept as much as he thought.

Chuckling at his own stupidity, Obi-Wan sat up in bed and squinted against the light which glared off the white sheets and coverlet in the direction Sabé's voice had seemed to come from. He swung his legs over the edge and placed his feet on the floor, the soles of his boots scuffing on the marble tile. Why had he been sleeping in his boots? And his Jedi robes, he noticed, which he hadn't worn since he came to Keren. He didn't remember putting them on. Come to think of it, the apartment floor wasn't tiled, nor did it have a pair of double doors lead out onto a balcony. Was he in Theed?

He felt so weightless on his feet, he practically drifted toward the tall female silhouette he saw through the doors. She stood with her back to him, a flowing gown, or a robe, trailing from her shoulders and billowing in the breeze, and her elaborately styled hair appeared crowned with rays of light.

"What do you want me to see, my love?"

Sabé turned half-way so that he saw her in profile. Instead of the lithe, slender figure Obi-Wan expected, his breath caught at the sight of her robes falling aside to reveal a full, rounded belly.

Beautiful. So beautiful. His fingers twitched, longing to feel the gentle power within, but something made him refrain.

His heart stopped, or pounded so fast that it seemed to. He'd seen this before. Not Sabé, but _Padmé,_ heavy with child on her apartment balcony on Coruscant, before--

 _No._ He turned to flee the shadows that curled around his wrists and ankles to ensnare him. An invisible hand restrained him instead. He strained against it. He would not relive this nightmare again--

"Be at peace."

Obi-Wan felt the words as much as heard them. Not Sabé's voice, but a familiar one, rasping. His own? Anakin's? A pull back to the light. To her face, painted white, bright and pure as new-fallen snow. Each cheek bore a spot of blood red, her lower lip the same stain. He'd kissed those cheeks, those lips. Not the queen, her handmaiden.

"Come and see, Ben," or, "Come and see Ben," said Sabé again.

He obeyed, and peace stole all through him, carrying him to her. Although he stretched out his hand, she remained just beyond his reach, but the light continued to grow brighter and brighter, until that was all there was, and he awoke.

He must have done with a start, because Sabé stirred in his arms.

"Obi-Wan?" came her sleepy voice, from further up in the bed. Beneath his cheek, her abdomen flexed as she started to sit up; somehow, he'd worked his way down the bed so that he lay with his head on her stomach, arms wrapped around her waist. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He nuzzled at her hipbone, brushed his lips below her navel. "Nothing at all. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you."

He moved back up to his pillow, dragging the tangled covers over their naked bodies. The musk of sex clung  faintly to the fabric; Sabé's hair, he found when he combed his fingers through it and placed a soft kiss on her lips, was still damp from her shower. They hadn't been asleep for long.

"A dream?" she asked.

Obi-Wan heard  the apprehension in her voice. Of course she would assume he'd had another nightmare. "A beautiful one," he answered. He gave her a smile, and another kiss, more lingering this time.

Sabé relaxed, her exhale turning into a yawn. "What about?"

"You." He stroked her hipbone. "What else?"

"Flirt." Thankfully she didn't press for more details before her breathing deepened. "Good night. Have more sweet dreams. About me."

"I will," he whispered, but a moment later Sabé had gone back to sleep while Obi-Wan lay staring at her outline in the glow of the bedside chrono, thinking about the dream he'd already had.

It had not seemed wise to tell Sabé he'd dreamt she was pregnant. Not in the middle of the night. Not before he'd had time to contemplate what it might mean. _If_ it meant anything at all.

He'd never experienced visions before. Some Jedi did, though that manifestation of the Force had become rare in recent times. Anakin was one. Was it premonitions of Padmé, their children, which led him down that path of fear to the Dark Side? Obi-Wan had tried to teach his former Padawan, as Yoda had taught him as a youngling, that dreams should be regarded with caution. What seemed absolute seldom was, because the future was ever in motion. Dreams were easily misunderstood, misinterpreted… confused with wishes.

His fingers, he noticed, had drifted from the rise of Sabé's hipbone to her flat, toned stomach.

Was this his wish? For Sabé to become pregnant?

Might she already be?

 _He_ had taken no precautions against such an occurrence--hadn't once even thought to, he realized, with some chagrin. Surely Sabé had; she’d implied that the academy had encouraged contraception until the right time to conceive. He was a wanted man…Force-sensitive children were possibly being taken…

The vision drew him back. It had been one of light, of peace, nothing to fear. _If_ it was a vision at all, he reminded himself. It might just as easily have been the mixed-up workings of the sleep-deprived mind of a man who was caring for twin babies with a woman he'd fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with.

And he'd be no good to any of them if he lay awake all night mulling over uncertainties.

Obi-Wan gave her stomach one final caress, closed his eyes and cleared his mind of everything but the one thing he was certain of:

The dream of Sabé was the most beautiful he'd ever had.

~*~

In the middle of folding a towel, Obi-Wan paused, pinched the bridge of his nose, and yawned behind his hand. Lowering it, he found himself under the unblinking scrutiny of the baby girl nestled in the corner of the sofa, bolstered by throw pillows and rolled up blankets to eliminate even the slightest threat that she might wriggle herself off.

"Between you and me, Leia," he said in a low voice, so as not to  wake her sleeping twin in the crib nearby, "I'm quite relieved Sabé insisted we can't go another day without caf."

They'd stumbled into the kitchen the previous morning to the horrifying discovery that there was only enough caf for one cup. Sabé had wanted to split it, but Obi-Wan let her have it all and settled for tea, for she'd had an even more difficult time getting out of bed than he--and that was after falling asleep before he had a chance to keep her up too late. Kissing him for his gallantry, she promised to go to the market later for more, but then it had begun to rain and slipped both their minds until today, when there was no caf for either of them.

"If tea will do for you, then it'll do for me," Sabé had said, groggily but gamely. But for the next several hours as they went about their usual morning routine, she grumbled about the inadequacy of tea and how he might have spoken up rather than be such a Jedi about it. When the twins went down for their morning nap, Obi-Wan sent her out for the urgently necessary caf, while he stayed behind to fold the laundry that had piled up yet _again_. (It was that, or do the breakfast dishes, which he simply couldn't face without caf to fortify him.)

"I have a touch of a headache," he chatted on to Leia, doubling the towel over and setting it aside at the other end of the couch. He found one of his shirts in the pile and shook out the wrinkles from being left too long in the drying unit. "That's a withdrawal symptom and means I should probably quit altogether and break the addiction, but. _You_ don't like to sleep."

Leia squirmed, scrunching up her face almost as if in response.

"My apologies, that isn't strictly the truth, is it?" Obi-Wan said. "It's only naps you fight. Can't stand not to know what everyone's up to, can you?"

One corner of her mouth hitched, a dimple flashing in her round cheek, and he reached out to stroke it with one curled index finger.

"Folding laundry isn't very interesting at all. Maybe it'll bore you to sleep."

Her smile stretched, mouth opening to show her gums. Of the two, Leia was stingier with her smiles than her twin, and Obi-Wan felt a little wince in his chest in response. Surprised at his delight, he continued to stroke her soft cheek, working his finger down below her chin to tickle her neck while she smiled and cooed and squirmed. Was two and a half months too early for her to laugh? He tried to remember what Sabé's book said as he attempted to coax one out of her anyway.

Instead, Leia hiccoughed. Obi-Wan chuckled, but her smile vanished, lips pursing and wispy brows raised as if to ask what on earth he found so amusing. She gave another jolt, the _hic_ even louder this time. Now not only was her smile absent, but her forehead scrunched, and she growled and grunted.

"Oh dear." Obi-Wan abandoned the laundry to scoop her up and hold her against his shoulder. "That sounded unpleasant."

He patted her back to soothe her, but another hiccough struck, and her little feet began to kick. Recognizing the telltale signs of working up to a full angry cry, Obi-Wan hurriedly strode from the room, away from the crib where Luke slept. Tea definitely hadn't fortified him enough to deal with _two_ babies who wouldn't take their morning nap. Hopefully Sabé wouldn't be gone long.

"Crying will only make it worse, little one," he said, as if that would help. Leia frequently got hiccoughs from drinking her bottles too quickly, and burping usually did the trick. What would, when that wasn't the cause? Perhaps playing the holorecording he'd made of Sabé singing the folk song about the Brave Handmaiden would calm Leia. But where had he left his datapad?

Leia twitched again, though this time, no hiccough accompanied it. Obi-Wan felt her raise her head from his shoulder, looking at something behind him. He turned and was startled to see that the hologram projector on Sabé's desk flickered blue with the miniature image of an already diminutive pointy-eared, robed figure leaning on a stick.

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan breathed, at once crossing the room to the desk. "Is there an emergency?"

"An emergency must there be for me to speak to you?"

A flush burned up from Obi-Wan's collar, neck itching where the ends of his hair brushed it. He hadn't meant to be rude.

"Forgive me, I wasn't expecting…"

That didn't sound right, either, although it was true enough; not once since Obi-Wan left Polis Massa had the Jedi Master contacted him, presumably content with Sabé's reports about the twins' health and safety channeled through Bail Organa. Why now? Leia was fussing and fidgeting in his arms, so he shifted her to face forward. Instantly, she went still and stared at the blue glow.

"You seem to have surprised the hiccoughs out of Leia," Obi-Wan said.

Yoda's familiar chuckle crackled. "Thriving the children are, under the care of you and your companion."

Obi-Wan found himself smothering a smile at that particular choice of word. If only Yoda knew just what their _companionship_ entailed _._  

"The medical droid was here…last week? Time has passed in something of blur. They're right on track for their age."

But of course Yoda would have read all that in Sabé's most recent report.

"Wanted to see with my own eyes how they were getting along."

The holographic image blinked, or perhaps Obi-Wan did at the memory of standing with Yoda over the small fallen bodies in the temple. He had always been so fond of the young initiates. Obi-Wan's own earliest memories were of the little old Master visiting the crèche, teaching their first lessons in his kindly way and funny speech. Did Yoda look at Leia and think of what had been, of what might have been? But no--regret was not the Jedi way.

And Yoda's eyes were not on the babe in Obi-Wan's arms, but on his face.

Only once before in his life had he felt the weight of nearly a millennium when Yoda looked at him: when Obi-Wan insisted on keeping his promise to Qui-Gon to train Anakin.

The silence stretched, clearly Obi-Wan's to fill. Unsure what Yoda wanted to hear, he said, "One of Sabé's neighbors, Linz, is something of a busybody and decided I must have wealthy parents who send us so many luxuries. We adopted her assumptions into our cover story. My mother is in the medical profession on Coruscant."

Yoda _hmph_ ed. This was apparently _not_ what he'd wanted to hear?

"Linz is not inordinately nosy," Obi-Wan hastened to add. "Sabé knows her well, and neither of us perceives a threat."

Without acknowledging this statement, Yoda said, "Adapted to the civilian life, you have. Shed the ways of the Jedi as easily as a cloak."

"I can't exactly traipse about in my robes, can I? Not with my picture flashed across the HoloNet."

Yoda's hands curled around the knob of his stick as he leaned more heavily over it, brows sloping together, too. "The trappings I do not mean."

Leia cried out, and Obi-Wan realized that in his defensiveness he'd squeezed her tightly against his body. He relaxed his hold, let out his breath as he bent to brush a kiss over the downy top of her head. Of course Yoda didn't mean that. But the insinuation that any of this had been _easy_ …And was it a stutter in the holograph projection, or had Yoda grunted at his display of affection for the baby? Obi-Wan hadn't given it a thought; kissing and cuddling the children had become second nature to him, as much as sleeping with Sabé curled against him.

The headache throbbed dully behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tight, as much to cut the pain with the slight pressure as to clear his mind. Why was he reacting this way? He ought to be overjoyed to be once more in the company of a Jedi.

"Have any of the others found their way to Polis Massa?" he asked hoarsely, opening them again. "Or made contact?"

"Search parties Senator Organa has sent to worlds where survivors might be hiding. None yet have they found."

"I suppose we should be grateful to the Empire for at least letting us know who to look for."

Yoda made another a rasping sound, which this time Obi-Wan was certain was a mirthless chuckle.

"Master," he said, "there's a subject I've wanted to discuss with you. What do you know of the Knights of Ren?"

"Know of them _you_ do?"

Leia was rubbing her eyes. Shifting her to his shoulder, Obi-Wan drew out the chair from the desk and sat down, so that he was almost at eye level with the hologram. As he told Yoda what he'd read about the founding of Keren in Sabé's book, and about the poet from his own studies with Qui-Gon, reality fell briefly away. He was in the temple spire once again, discussing matters of galactic peace and security with his brothers- and sisters-in-arms high above Coruscant. He soon exhausted his knowledge, however; the rungs of the ladder-backed chair digging below his shoulder blades, the baby's rapid puffs of breath against his neck, brought him back to the third floor apartment, the curtains open to the earthy view of the housing block and the couch piled with wrinkled laundry.

In the time he was speaking, and in the lengthy silence that followed, he watched Yoda carefully, but even when not in hologram form, the Jedi Grand Master had too much mastery over his emotions to be read. The little blue image remained still and silent for so long that Obi-Wan wondered whether the projection had frozen.

"Active the Knights of Ren were during the Clone Wars," Yoda finally spoke.

Obi-Wan sat up straighter, removed his hand from the rise and fall of Leia's back to scrub his fingers over his beard. "Why didn't the High Council know of this?"

"Some did. Unnecessary we deemed it for all to know. Unclear were the Knights' motives--if motives they had."

Not so very long ago, Obi-Wan would have accepted this vague answer. Now, it vexed him. "But who are they? What do they _do_?"

"Opportunists, at best," Yoda replied, unruffled. "Agents of chaos, at worst. Alone they operated, not as a group."

"Against whom?"

"The Republic."

Obi-Wan considered this. "Whatever they serve, Light or Dark, I suppose that means the Knights of Ren were more in the right than the Jedi." He sat back in his chair, rested his hand against Leia's back again, rubbing it. She'd fallen asleep some time ago, but the motion soothed him, lessened the pulse in his temples. "Where are they now?"

"Scattered."

Like the Jedi. "I imagine that's safest for them, too, given Darth Sidious' relentless pursuit of Force-users. You're up to date on the holos, I assume?"

Yoda gave a single nod. "Perceive no threat to you from the Knights of Ren I do. For now, it is the Empire you must avoid."

"As you can see, I've done that quite successfully. Thanks to my _companion_." Moving his hand from Leia's head Obi-Wan rose from his chair, careful not to jostle and wake her; she napped so lightly.

"A trusted ally she has proved herself to the last Jedi."

Obi-Wan felt the holograph gaze on his back as he carried Leia to the crib and nestled her beside Luke. They'd grown so much that soon they wouldn't fit together. He lingered beside the crib, peering down at their little faces, so alike in sleep. _The last Jedi_ seemed impossible. Not when these two had defied all odds to be here, now.

At the back of his mind niggled another thought: nearly every night now in his dreams, he saw Sabé pregnant, or with a babe suckling at her breast. Sometimes he was with her, though most often he watched from a distance. He had not breathed a word of it to her.

"Return to her work for the Rebellion soon she must."

"Isn't this Rebellion work?" Obi-Wan asked, as Sabé had once said. "Caring for these children? Keeping them safe so they can grow strong?"

"Safe, you believe them to be? With Obi-Wan Kenobi? The most wanted man in the galaxy he is."

"Here, I am just Ben."

Ben, the husband of Sabé, the father of her twin children, who'd developed a caf addiction. No one questioned the lie, or recognized him from the holos. Didn't their security lie in the simplicity of it?

"And _just Ben_ you wish to remain?"

He hadn't liked Yoda accusing him of forsaking the ways of the Jedi, yet Obi-Wan could not readily answer in the affirmative. Life undercover had been a necessity, not a choice. Taking a lover, though… falling in love. That had been a choice. If remaining a Jedi meant forsaking Sabé…that wasn't a choice he was at all certain he could make.

One thing he was sure of: remaining Ben was preferable to being the last Jedi.

"Sensed you in the Force, I have, young Obi-Wan."

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if Yoda had dealt him a physical blow he hadn't been prepared for. He felt his mental defenses go up at the intrusion. Anakin's voice from the old nightmare echoed. _You have no right. They're mine._

"Cut off you were, for a time, but now your emotions…" His eyes widened, flashing blue with the flicker of the hologram. "…like a beacon, they are."

"There is no emotion. Only Peace," Obi-Wan intoned. "Last I checked, that was the objective of the Jedi, was it not?"


	9. Chapter 9

Along the canal, past the fruit and textile stands, Sabé and Obi-Wan walked in silence, each with one of Sabé's wooden staves slung over a shoulder by a leather harness, Obi-Wan with the backpack that carried bottles of milk, burp cloths, nappies, and the lightsaber he wondered if he'd ever use again.

It was chilly this late afternoon, perfect for sparring in the park. Sabé had finally returned with caf, and his headache had abated after a couple of cups. But thanks to Yoda's doomsaying-which Obi-Wan could not readily discount-a different distraction had taken its place, stretching the hours since their conversation in strange ways. Even Sabé had said they needed to get out of the cramped apartment before they discussed it further.

As they walked, the twins' clear eyes reflected the passing clouds overhead. Luke's shimmered like a sunlit ocean, while Leia's seemed to be darkening by the day. She'd have brown eyes, like Padmé, Sabé had assured Obi-Wan as they packed up their gear.

And Luke would inherit Anakin's crystal blues.

With that realization they'd both grown quiet, spinning around in their own thoughts, until Obi-Wan had reached for the nape of Sabé's neck, pulling her into him for a languorous kiss, which ended in their foreheads resting together. Neither of them needed to say anything. Moments of grief still overtook one or both of them from time to time, and they took shelter in one another when they did.

And now this new weight crouched upon their shoulders as they nudged the hoverpram along in front of them. But Sabé needed to _move_ before she considered a course of action, so Obi-Wan had agreed to spar with her. It would do him good to clear his mind with physical exertion before they meditated later and considered their next steps.

Obi-Wan reached, tried to clear his mind of worry. The Force would be with them, he knew it. For the Maker's sake, where else did it have to be right now?

With a furrowed brow he shook himself, but his thoughts wouldn't file into their proper slots, instead jockeying against one another for primacy. _Embrace your fear and use it as your ally, don't bow to it as your master_ , Qui-Gon had said more than once, in direct defiance of Yoda's teachings. _Fear means that you care, and caring is always, always the right thing to do._

He decided to focus on this moment. His worry was the frame, but his life—their lives together—was the picture. _See the picture_.

Across the street from the City Government Complex sprawled a public park. It had been built originally so the children of government employees and their teachers would have a place to play within view of their parents' high office windows—as Sabé had while her father worked security, coming out to join her for lunch when he could—but of course the space was open to everyone. A high stone wall bordered by trees divided the playground from the adjacent marina, though occasionally the calls of fishermen and women and the sharp scents of the day's catch still drifted over it.

That wall was where Sabé headed. "We'll put the pram here. The children can watch us spar, and they'll be protected, too."

She parked the hoverpram under a tree that had been planted too close to the wall and had grown into the stone. Its sinewy trunk wound in and out of the stonework as though the masonry were no different than the soil nurturing its roots, the glossy leaves shading the babies beneath it. Obi-Wan thought of the single Force-sensitive tree back on Coruscant, the one the Emperor had destroyed in yet another attempt to erase the Jedi forever, and felt a dull throb of sorrow.

But Obi-Wan was _here_ now, under _this_ tree. And that was something. More than that. It was everything.

Of course it had been Qui-Gon who'd told him not to lose sight of the present in worrying about the future. As Obi-Wan now let the past slip away, he could imagine his old Master nodding in approval, perhaps making the sage pronouncement that a bit of salt goes well in more than one dish.

Some distance away a pair of lovers lay on a blanket together, pointing at the scudding clouds overhead. A woman in exercise clothing did pull-ups from one of the durasteel bars installed as part of a fitness course. Several government employees of different species met over drinks at a picnic table. A man wearing black, as many Naboo people still did even more than two months after Padmé's funeral, Sabé included, lounged on a bench.

Kneeling, Obi-Wan let the backpack slip from his shoulder onto the clipped grass next to the hovering pram. Next to his ear he heard Leia grunt, and he smiled in wonder that now he knew the twins not only by sight, but by sound and smell. Even their Force signatures were distinct. Leia's hummed with a low, constant energy, while spikes of power punctuated Luke's. It was as though Anakin's Force signature-that strange concoction of stability and volatility-had been split between them, peppered with Padmé's unwavering courage. Which strengths would manifest in them? Though there was no Jedi Order to train them, a thought that still pinched within his chest, that fact didn't concern him on their behalf. He would teach them himself.

When he rose he saw Sabé going through a series of warm-ups with her staff, whipping it up, down, across, around as she stepped, lunged, retreated. He'd trained with a staff before, long ago, when he was still a Padawan. As it wasn't his primary weapon, he couldn't recall an appropriate exercise to loosen the specific muscle groups required for staff fighting, so he attempted to follow her movements. After a few repetitions he'd learned the gist of it. Even if he didn't execute the poses and strikes perfectly, soon he breathed heavily with her.

"Ready?" she called.

He nodded and faced her, mirroring her stance with staff at the ready. A flash of Darth Maul with his red double-bladed lightsaber sent a shudder of old pain through him. He swatted it aside as Sabé attacked.

She was quick and ruthless, and immediately Obi-Wan had to move faster than he'd expected to. He grinned as he parried, the wooden clacking of their staves echoing off the wall. With a series of thrusts she drove him back, and he circled around so they wouldn't travel too far from the twins. When he tried to attack, she switched styles to one that emphasized spins, and he wasn't able to approach. Then she reverted to thrusts, jabs, and diagonal slashes and drove him back again, forcing him to parry and deflect.

It felt good to move this way. He'd missed it. He felt his mind clear as a stream rids itself of silt, the tension of his muscles dissipating as they worked and loosened, his body centering as he focused on relearning this way of combat. It was almost like being a Padawan again. He felt the children's energy off to his right, and Sabé's in front of him. Her Force signature—all living beings had one, even non-Force users—flowed rhythmically through her like waves on the sea, or colors in a sunset. It was beautiful, dynamic yet steadfast.

Perhaps what Yoda sensed was his happiness, as though it were a thing to be feared and avoided. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and parried, struck, retreated, his hands vibrating from the impact of their staves meeting again and again.

These children needed people who _loved_ them. They needed a father who would teach them the ways of the Force, a mother who would train them with blasters and hand-to-hand combat and staff fighting. A vision fixed itself firmly in his mind: they'd take the kids flying in starships and show them the galaxy until they were old enough themselves to pilot. At school they'd learn about worlds near and far, the Republic and the Empire, the Jedi and the Rebellion. At home they'd learn about love, and how to recognize lies and propaganda no matter how pretty, and how to distinguish true friends from false ones. Luke and Leia needed all of this, and more, and he and Sabé could give it to them.

And Obi-Wan needed Sabé. He _had_ her, and she had him, and he wasn't about to let her go.

Just now Sabé's expression of victory brought him back to the moment, and none too soon, for she'd brought her staff to his neck, skillfully pulling up short a split second before the strike.

"Ha!" she exclaimed with a grin as she planted one end of her staff on the ground, rubbing a sleeve across her sweaty forehead. "My first Jedi."

Obi-Wan, panting hard, bowed in concession. When he arose he raked a hand through the hair that had fallen in his eyes. "Clearly I have a lot to learn."

She shifted her weight to one leg, her hip jutting out seductively. "I'd be happy to teach you."

"Well," he smiled. "Since you put it that way."

They fought again, dancing over the grass just in front of the twins, who watched with eyes wide and fingers flexing as though they, too, desired to enter the fray. Sabé tried to swipe at Obi-Wan's feet a few times, but even without drawing on the Force he was too quick for that, leaping up just before her staff connected with his ankle or calf. Still, it seemed his skill was no match for hers; he could only deflect or dodge her blows until once more she had him disarmed, this time on the ground with her staff pointed at his throat, a boot planted on his heaving chest.

"Surrender," she panted.

"Always," he replied, his hand sliding up her inner thigh until her eyelids gave an involuntary flutter of pleasure.

"If you were any other man," she said with a shake of her head, "I'd break your fingers and then knock you unconscious."

"But I'm not." He tugged on the back of her knee.

She tossed her staff aside and let him pull her down onto him.

"No," she said, kissing him and offering a tantalizingly brief grind of her hips against his. "You're not." She leapt up and grabbed her staff. "So once more."

The sparring began again. But this time it was different. Something in the set of Sabé's jaw reminded him of Anakin's determination one grey morning when they'd sparred together with electrostaves borrowed from the Temple armory.

Though tall and strong for his age, the boy couldn't have been more than thirteen at the time, and the frustrations associated with battling a man in his prime often interfered with his concentration. After each match Anakin's back would bow in a way that Obi-Wan didn't care for one bit. _Once a slave, always a slave_ , he'd overheard an older Padawan whisper to another, shaking his head in a show of magnanimous pity as they passed Anakin. Obi-Wan had withered that gossipmonger with a glare, then made sure his Master would excise the weed of judgment and plant seeds of generosity.

So before stopping for their noontime meditation and meal on that lonely, still morning, Obi-Wan had decided to let his Padawan win.

It was the first time Anakin had revealed more than a hint of the rage that lurked within him. "You can't go easy on me, Master!" he shouted, throwing down the electrostaff, which sputtered off as it hit the stonework.

The rest of the day had been a waste, and Obi-Wan had learned never again to "go easy" on his Padawan.

Why had that memory invaded his mind now? Sabé wasn't letting him win. And he wasn't letting her win…

But he wasn't fully in the fight, either, was he?

Obi-Wan drew himself up and met her strikes with powerful parries that set her back a bit more with each blow. Within a few minutes he had the advantage. His blood sang with the power he'd finally embraced; and when he saw the shimmer in her eyes, the half-grin on her lips, he knew she saw it, too. Had she been waiting for it?

It had been far too long since he'd been a warrior for peace. Even the three years of the Clone Wars had been a prelude for the Empire's takeover, the Jedi pawns rather than protectors of democracy. With the destruction of the Jedi Order, he'd thought it was over. That _he_ was over. But that part of him longed for release, and all he had to do was allow it, just as he'd let his love for Sabé flow through him.

It was all one. The Force was still with him, with Sabé, the children. Together they were stronger than they could be apart. Together they would set down new roots, grow, flourish.

He sliced, knocking Sabé's staff from her hands, and it went spinning—toward where the children lay in their pram.

Sabé's gasp of terror was cut short by his hand shooting out and stopping the staff in midair with the Force. It rotated lazily in place for a second before he let it drop to the ground.

He glanced quickly around, but the local workers still sat hunched together, the couple was kissing, the woman had jogged away some time ago, and the man on the bench seemed to be looking in another direction.

Sabé hurried to him and pressed a hand to his chest, a look of gratitude passing quickly over her face before she ran to the babies, dropping her staff next to his along the way.

"Nothing fazes you two, does it?" she said through labored breaths. She stroked their cheeks and leaned forward to kiss their noses. "Cooler than carbonite. Hmm. Well, having a Jedi and a professional bodyguard nearby must bring a certain peace of mind."

"Although technically it _was_ our fault that they were in danger in the first place," panted Obi-Wan as he approached them. "I got carried away."

Sabé looked up at him and spoke through a voice thick with emotion. "It was lovely to see."

Finding himself speechless for the moment, he returned her smile.

At the sight of Sabé's face, Luke had immediately started to fuss for a feeding, and now Leia followed suit. Obi-Wan retrieved the bottles from his pack and sat in the shade of the tree as Sabé handed him Luke, then joined him with Leia. The powdery scent of Rominaria flowers mingled with that of the marina's fishing haul, but somehow it wasn't unpleasant.

"Do you miss it?" she asked once they'd settled and the children had quieted.

He didn't have to ask what she meant.

"I—I suppose there are times when I do," he admitted. "I was a Jedi. From childhood I knew nothing else. All my hopes, all my principles were tied up in that identity. And then all of it was poisoned. Stolen. Destroyed."

To turn his thoughts from his brother's fall to darkness, he looked at the babies, so serene and safe in their arms. But once more Anakin's presence seemed to wash over him and he had to restrain himself from looking behind him or glancing about for a broad-shouldered shadow. It was the babies' Force signature, he reminded himself, nothing more.

"Well. Not all of it was lost, was it?" he went on, more to cast off the spectre of doom than anything else. "But…the structure that sheltered me was suddenly gone. There were no more rules. Nothing to work for. Except for Luke and Leia, of course. It has been…an adjustment."

"So you already know it. There is a _new_ hope."

"What—?" But again, from the way she gazed with such love at Leia in her arms, he knew. "Why yes, I suppose that's a good way to look at it. With so much lost, hope can— _must_ —change. Just as I had to."

Sabé looked up at him and sighed heavily. "You're the finest man I've ever known, Obi-Wan Kenobi." He started to protest, but she went on. "You make doing the right thing seem like the _only_ thing. As it should be. And I happen to agree with that philosophy, Jedi or no."

Another lump in his throat prevented his response, so he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Perhaps he hadn't changed as much as he'd thought. There _was_ a new hope. And his heart swelled at the thought that he and Sabé would nurture and protect it together.

The setting sun ignited the scattered clouds and, after Sabé tucked them back into the pram and pulled their little swaddling blankets up to their chins, the children smiled at the riot of color over their heads. Shouldering their staves and the backpack, they cut between the picnic tables and benches toward the edge of the park.

The clutch of government workers had started to disperse, but three people remained, an Ankura Gungan and two humans. As the pram passed, one of the humans whirled about as though her name had been shouted. She practically tripped over her flowing garments as she hustled to catch up to the pram.

"May I?" she asked in a husky voice. Not waiting for permission, she bent forward to peer at the babies. "Oh! I've never seen a more gorgeous set of children in my life! Twins! Oh, how precious!"

"Thank you," Sabé began, "that's very—"

"Let me look, Merné!" said the man, barging in. "Oh my. These two. You must be proud parents." But he didn't even look at the adults as he reached toward the pram as though he wanted to pick up one of the swaddled infants.

Sabé pulled the hoverpram back as Obi-Wan stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on his staff while the fingers of his other hand twitched for his saber, inaccessible within the pack on his back. "You'll forgive us if we don't allow—"

"So perfect," said the Gungan, pressing past his colleagues to stare at Luke and Leia. "Mesa no see such perfect humans!"

"Let's go," muttered Obi-Wan, done with courtesy; but Sabé had already steered the pram away from the trio.

They strode from the fawning group and across the lawn, toward the street that led to her apartment. Obi-Wan heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn't needed to use a mind trick to redirect the busybodies, but his worry did not abate. Their interest didn't feel right; it was too focused, too intent. He glanced behind to make certain no one followed.

A few yards off, the man in black remained seated on the park bench, one arm draped over the seat back. As they passed, Obi-Wan stared, and the man stared back. Something about him seemed familiar. He was clean-shaven with closely-cropped faded blond hair, fair but sun-beaten skin, piercing blue eyes, and a thin, determined mouth. When their eyes met he thought he saw a smile flicker across his face—but then he stood up, turned, and sauntered off toward the marina.

"Do you know him?" asked Sabé in a breathless tone of alarm.

The retreating back, that loping gait, _seemed_ like he should know it. But that was impossible.

Obi-Wan's heart began to pound even as he shook his head.

They took a circuitous route home, going down streets that took them farther from Sabé's apartment building, then zigzagging back, skirting the complex again and again. Only when they were certain no one had followed them did they make their way to her building.

Just as she'd done when they'd first arrived so many weeks ago, Sabé pulled the blaster from her boot, leaving Obi-Wan at the door with the children, his hand in the backpack on his saber—though she'd warned him not to use it lest he be discovered as a Jedi. But he didn't sense anything wrong at home.

 _Home_. When had he started thinking of Sabé's place as his home?

But it was, as surely as Sabé was his to love and the children theirs to protect. He'd found his place and it— _she_ —had welcomed him as though he'd been away for far too long. When he entered, his eyes drank in the sight of their small living room.

" _What_ was that?" Sabé asked as soon as every door protection had engaged. She yanked the curtains closed and switched on the dim light above the stovetop.

"I don't know," replied Obi-Wan as he lay a sleeping Luke in the crib and then reached for Leia. He spoke slowly, trying to piece it together. "But I'm afraid Yoda might be right. The Force is strong around us now. I've certainly felt calmer since being here. Part of it is you." He parked the pram next to the front door and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the corner of her lips. "I thought you were the whole reason I felt at peace. But it might be more than that. Perhaps the babies and I together call the Force to us more strongly than I'd thought. It may well be like a beacon, as Yoda said. One that draws even non-Force sensitives toward us."

He pressed his lips together and searched her face as though the answer might be written in it.

"So my question is," he said, "who else might this beacon attract?"

Sabé's face fell as though he'd voiced the worry she couldn't. If Palpatine sought the Jedi with the intent to kill them if they didn't serve him, would he not clamor at the chance to raise two Sith of his own from infancy? Perhaps he would discard the "rule of two" in this case. Or perhaps he'd choose one infant and dispose of the other. Obi-Wan's pulse thrummed, and he could not slow it.

Clasping the hand that still cupped her cheek, Sabé pressed her lips into his palm. "I'm frightened," she whispered into it.

"So am I." Obi-Wan kissed her once, twice. Cradling her jaw he gave himself to kissing her more fully. At length he pulled away. "We need to meditate."

A huff of laughter escaped her lips, her eyes darting up to his, and he read the fear there. "For once I agree with you," she said with a wry smile.

They left their boots at the door and hung their cloaks on the wall hooks above. As one, they crossed to the rug in front of the babies' crib. Usually they meditated in her bedroom, but somehow it seemed right to be near the twins.

Facing each other, they sat down with legs folded and palms facing upward on their knees.

"I don't know what to focus on," said Sabé with a squirm. "The Rebellion needs me. Yoda needs you. The children need us. And people are starting to notice the Force all around us."

Obi-Wan smiled, for he'd launched questions at Qui-Gon in exactly the same way when he was young. _Stop hiding behind your barricades_ , his master had replied. _Come out into the open_.

"Clear your mind," he told her, though he knew it was easier said than done. He'd noticed she hadn't said what _she_ needed, but he knew…just as she must know in her heart _his_ greatest need. "Make room for the Force and its guidance."

He waited until Sabé had stopped fidgeting before closing his own eyes. They synchronized their breathing and, though it took a while, he felt the moment when she "dropped in," as she liked to call it. It was a deepening of her consciousness that felt somehow closer to him and farther away, as if they were together in some other place, not here but _here_.

 _Stay_.

 _Stay_.

 _Stay_.

Qui-Gon's mantra echoed in his mind all these years later, a comforting balm and its own beacon, one that kept him as close to the Force as a living being can be. Obi-Wan sensed Sabé was here, _staying_ more easily than she'd done before.

He wasn't surprised. The Force often embraced newcomers easily, especially when they needed it most, whereas it expected more from him.

But Sabé was a beacon, as well. More than that: she was like a heavenly body whose gravitational pull kept him close. Perhaps they were like a planet with a moon circling—but no, that wasn't it, either, because Luke and Leia were part of this, too. The twins and Obi-Wan and Sabé, aligned for one perfect celestial moment in syzygy.

_But Master, how do you keep from falling in love? From developing attachments?_

_Who said I never did?_

Syzygy required attachment.

The Force required this of him, of Sabé. They'd chosen to embrace it, thinking they'd defied the Force. But no, that wasn't it at all.

There was Sabé, her belly heavy with child, white light surrounding her, shrouding and draping her in white, clothing Obi-Wan in light.

Hands clasped, words of a bond nestled behind lips that kissed.

Standing beside many others, fighting back-to-back as one against the encroaching darkness.

A dark-haired boy headed down the wrong path, sacrificing everything only to lose it twice over.

Luke and Leia growing strong, hands linked together, and other hands holding them, people Obi-Wan didn't know yet, following and leading them across space and time into danger again and again, fear and peace, loss and victory.

A long time ago or someday, sitting across the fire from someone on Jakku, but this was not Qui-Gon. A narrow frame, dark hair pulled back. Sabé. No. No, it was a girl. Lonely. Powerful. She would—

Sabé trembled and sobbed, drawing Obi-Wan back from _here_ to now. He kept his eyes closed, because Sabé was still _here_ , and he couldn't draw her out of that place without a sharp jolt of reality, the prism flipping everything inside out alarmingly.

So he waited for her to come back.

And realized he trembled, too. The Force had touched him and left him sweating and shaking, its power rumbling through his torso as it had never done before, shivering through his veins like adrenaline, leaving him wanting and having all at once. A gift greater than the one bestowed to a small boy when, during one meditation, the Force had shaken him like a rag doll until he collapsed in ecstasy.

Then, like now, it was too much and not enough.

His trembling hands reached for Sabé's. Her palms were clammy, her fingers limp under his own. She drew a shuddering breath and sobbed again.

He felt it when she came back.

Opening his eyes, he saw her sway forward and catch herself. When her strength returned, she gripped his hands with the ferocity of a warrior in battle, even as tears streamed down her face while she panted and shook.

Sabé had felt it. She'd _felt_ it. It had pulled her under. He remembered that feeling, certain he must be drowning…but then the Force had breathed new life into him.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure who had leaned in first, but suddenly they were kissing, their shaking hands on each other's tear-streaked faces, raking through each other's hair, tugging at tunics and leggings. He felt dizzy, glad to be on his knees instead of his feet, grateful to lean against Sabé's heaving breast as she quaked with a need that matched his own. Something ripped, his tunic, he did not care. Roughly, he wrenched her leggings and underthings down, she kicked them away and fell backward onto the carpet, used her feet to push his trousers down to his ankles, and he managed to kick one leg off just before he plunged into her, so warm, so ready.

He was already on the brink of exploding and Sabé, tight around him, seemed as close. _Stay_ , he thought. _Stay_.

And he did. He moved slowly, meticulously, finding that exquisite pressure and position, and within seconds she clenched around him, crying out, bringing him with her. Somewhere all around him he heard laughter, an innocent elation like breath, like air, surrounding their carnal delight.

As he panted against her mouth, he realized it was the twins, awake where they lay above his head in the crib. Awake and laughing, for the first time.

"Did you see it?" he asked, kissing her.

"I saw—I think you're supposed to be with me," she said. Tears still ran from the corners of her eyes. "We'll both go to the Rebellion. They need me, and you. You know they do. You'll be my—" She stopped herself again, smiled, ran her fingers through his beard. "—my kept man."

"Your househusband," he amended. "I could watch the kids while you're away."

At his words, two spots of color painted her cheeks, but she managed to say, "And I'd watch them when you were away."

"But we'd stay. Together," he said firmly, and she was already nodding before he'd finished saying, "Marry me. Marry me."

"Yes." She kissed him. "Yes, yes, I will, yes."

"Marry me, Sabé."

"Yes."

His own tears fell onto her cheeks as he gave himself completely to another new life, his eternal _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of our readers, [ladyarcherfan3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3), has created this beautiful fanvid based on our fic! Check it out [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f0zR6spkbFs)! The use of Florence + the Machine's song could not be more perfect. Thank you again! And to all our readers. Your feedback means so much. We're thrilled you're on this journey with Obi-Wan, Sabé, the twins, and us! <3


	10. Chapter 10

It seemed an age since Sabé had slept this late.

She tried to hold onto the dream she was having, something about a boy with waves of dark hair, like hers, but with the bluest of eyes, like Obi-Wan’s. The dream was sweet but overwhelming, and upon waking she realized it had frightened her, too. A cloaked figure had reached a powerful gloved hand toward that boy, and all she could do was watch him walk toward it, weeping for him as he left everything he loved behind…but now that she was awake the whole scene slipped away faster than a receding tide, taking her panic with it.

After a shiver-inducing stretch, she flung a lazy arm toward Obi-Wan’s side of the bed. But he wasn’t there.

Reluctantly slitting her eyes, she spied her open bedroom door, heard the twins babbling happily, smelled fresh caf and something absolutely grand: the sugary scent of pancakes cooking on a griddle.

As tired as she was, the prospect of real pancakes for breakfast roused her. A smile had crept across her face before she’d even pushed herself to sitting and swung her legs over the edge of the warm, rumpled bed. She took a few breaths and folded in half to retrieve her robe, discarded on the floor next to the bed in her haste to fall into Obi-Wan’s arms last night. If there was a better excuse to become slovenly so late in life, she had yet to discover it.

Sabé padded barefoot into the kitchen and saw as she tied her robe that Obi-Wan had laid the children on their backs on a blanket atop the living room rug…while four little plush creatures--bantha, dewback, tauntaun, and nerf--rotated over their heads unaided by strings or wires, a Jedi’s makeshift mobile. Luke and Leia tried to catch the tiny beasts, kicking their pajama-clad legs as they giggled. When she turned, Sabé’s mouth dropped open as she realized that Obi-Wan was casually controlling the toys while he cooked, his attention seemingly only on the golden round discs cooking on the pan in front of him.

“Dantooine flapjacks,” he said with a grin in her direction, “with my own variation of a Pikobi egg to thicken the mix. I confess, I tasted the batter, and you’re right, they’re very sweet.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Sabé asked through a yawn as she crossed to him. “I could’ve fed the kids. You should’ve woken me.”

“And you should’ve slept longer, my love,” he chastised gently. “You’ve been so tired this week.”

He lay several strips of tailring bacon into another pan (“Dex would cringe if I bought anything else,” Obi-Wan had opined when he’d returned from the market the day before) and waved a hand over it so that the greasy spatter remained contained just above the hot surface, then he used the spatula in his other hand to flip the two flapjacks, perfectly golden brown now. A stack of them waited on a plate next to the cooktop.

Closing her eyes, Sabé inhaled the delicacies, wondering how in the stars such good fortune had befallen her. She felt Obi-Wan’s lips over her own and opened her eyes to see a twinkle in his as he pulled away.

“Oh, and good morning,” he said softly.

“Very, very good,” she agreed, standing behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist as he took some tongs to flip the bacon, his other hand pressed warmly over hers.

She loved nuzzling into the scent at the base of his neck and rubbing her cheek along the breadth of his shoulders. He’d thrown on his sleep pants and a loose tunic, his hair adorably disheveled, face still creased from the pillow, beard unkempt. This was how she loved him best, at his simplest and most unguarded. It was as though their time together had deconstructed the both of them to their most basic selves. For her part, Sabé felt freer now, and yet more fiercely attached, than she ever had in her life or career. She saw her future aligned with the man in her arms, felt it as surely as blood coursed through her veins.

Tears sprang unexpectedly to her eyes, and she hugged him tighter, burying her nose between his shoulder blades.

“It’s only breakfast,” Obi-Wan chuckled, trailing his fingers along the backs of her forearms around his waist.

_ It’s more than that _ , she mused, though she couldn’t have explained why. Or rather, she could…but she’d never believed in, much less experienced, precognition. She was still trying to process  the stirring images that had burst forth in her mind when they’d meditated two weeks ago. She’d seen herself and Obi-Wan fighting side by side in the darkness--that had been simple enough to interpret. Then there had been Luke and Leia, hurtling hand-in-hand into the future together. But who was that dark-haired boy who lost everything? She’d seen a lonesome girl—herself?—staring into a fire on a desert planet, talking with someone she longed to see but could not. And she’d seen herself pregnant, bathed in white light, with Obi-Wan next to her.

How could she explain all of that to him?

Even though she hadn’t used birth control since she’d ended things with Rupan, she hadn't believed she was pregnant at the time of the vision. Hadn’t Obi-Wan told her that Qui-Gon had encouraged him to pursue a relationship if he desired? And that permissiveness included educating himself about precautions? And Obi-Wan had said nothing about that part of the vision. Had he shared it? Or did that mean it was of no immediate concern?

A shock wave jolted her when she realized how blind she’d been.

Obi-Wan hadn’t pursued a woman. Until her. Therefore he’d had no reason to seek contraception. Until her. And to her knowledge, he hadn’t done so.

Nor had she.

Her cycle had been off since Padmé died, which was nothing unusual for her in times of emotional distress, but some quick mental arithmetic revealed she ought to have had two since her last one. She hadn't. 

She continued to cling, wide-eyed, to his waist as she felt herself spiral into a daze.

A knock at the door and a throaty voice calling, “Wake up, pateesas!” shook her from her wondering.

“Linz,” said Obi-Wan as he poured two more flapjacks onto the griddle. “Invite her for breakfast. We’ve got plenty. It’s the least we can do.”

It was true. Linz had been such a help, dropping in to clean up from time to time while they took the kids out for a walk.

Before she turned, quiet thumps near the twins drew Sabé’s attention; Obi-Wan had let the plush creatures fall to the floor next to the children, who flapped their arms in confusion at the undoing of their amusement. The bacon began to spatter on the cooktop.

Tugging the sash of her robe tighter, Sabé checked the monitor by the door and saw that Linz was alone. She opened the door with what she hoped was a relaxed smile and took a step backward to allow the Besalisk—and the scent of cigarillo that clung to her skin and clothing—inside.

“Look at those beautiful babies!” she exclaimed as she pounded across the space with barely a wave at Obi-Wan, who called his hello to her broad back. “So big! So sweet!”

She leaned forward with two hands on her knees and two tickling Luke and Leia under their chins, eliciting delighted grins and a gurgle from Luke.

“You can see how smart they are already,” she said sagely as she stood up and turned to face the adults. “The wisdom of children is plain in their eyes. Wise, old eyes, they have.”

“I agree,” said Obi-Wan with a glance at Sabé, who couldn’t help smiling. They’d made that same observation more than once.

“We’re about to sit down for breakfast,” she said, grateful for the temporary distraction from her jarring epiphany. She’d have to confront it soon enough--but first, sustenance. “Would you like to join us, Linz?”

“Thanks, but I’m on my way to work. Just wanted to check on your little family.” Linz hunched forward, squinting her reptilian eyes at Sabé’s face. “How is it you look more tired than you did two months ago? I know the babies are sleeping. I haven’t heard them through the floor.”

Sabé leaned back against the counter with a sidelong glance at Obi-Wan, who had his back to Linz as he transferred the bacon from the pan to a plate. A look of guilty satisfaction made his beard twitch. A proper peacock, this one, so proud of his ability to keep her awake when she should be asleep. She pressed her lips together to suppress her grin.

“Ah, you don’t need to explain,” chuckled Linz with a wag of her thick fingers. “Babies need care, but so do parents. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are,” admitted Sabé with a stroke along Obi-Wan’s arm, and he returned the affection by pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

A thrill coursed through her at that simple action, for this was the first time they’d been able to show their love for one another in front of someone they knew. The masquerade of husband-and-wife was about to become reality, and a flush of joy rose in her cheeks. Sabé had wanted to delay the wedding until the end of Naboo’s traditional three-month mourning period, and she’d been so run down these days that it was probably sensible to take a few weeks to plan and organize; but in truth she could hardly wait to say her vows.

“Glad to see you making some time for each other,” Linz said. “You haven’t taken your evening walks lately, though.”

It was true. Since that strange encounter in the park, they’d decided to heed Yoda’s warnings against exposing the twins to strangers.

“Oh, we switched to morning walks,” said Sabé. “The kids are more alert then. They seem to enjoy it. Besides,” she went on with a lilt in her voice, “Ben is a morning person.”

Obi-Wan laughed. Flapjacks and bacon aside, they both knew that was a lie.

“Well, if you want an evening out, you should swing by Club Deeja. Mekken's been asking about you.”

“Your cousin is still a bouncer there?”

“He is. Deres doesn’t like it, but she keeps her mouth shut. They have two little ones at home, did you know?”

“I didn’t!” Sabé smiled, imagining just how  _ little _ two young Besalisks might be. The news pleased her. In contrast to the gruff demeanor he presented at the club, Mekken possessed a kind and gentle soul; he’d make a great father. “Have I been away that long? Send him my congratulations.”

“Tell him yourself!” said Linz with a poke at Sabé’s shoulder. “You two need to get out more. Melodic Order has an early hologram show every night. Take the children.”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Linz.”

“Listen.” Linz’s tone dropped to a hush and her brow furrowed as she gazed at each of the humans in turn, as though to make sure she had their full attention. “There’s something else I should tell you. I know our neighborhood isn’t the best, but—”

The quiet  _ bing _ of the commlink announced someone at the door.

“That must be the medical droid,” said Obi-Wan as he carried the plates of flapjacks and bacon to the dining table.

“Here for the twins’ three-month checkup? They have very doting grandparents.”

“They worry,” he added with a solemn wink.

“Understandable,” she replied, eyes crinkling in a knowing grin. “I’ll leave you, then. Don’t want to be late for work.”

“What were you going to say? About the neighborhood?” asked Sabé as she crossed to the door with her.

“It’s probably nothing.” Linz pressed her wide lips together in a frown before going on. “A few days ago I saw a stranger lurking about.”

“What did he look like?” asked Obi-Wan, stopping with a rag in his hand as he was about to wipe down the countertop.

“Human male, I think. I couldn’t see clearly. It was dark.”

Sabé saw her worry mirrored in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Just be careful,” said Linz. “You never know.”

“We will,” Obi-Wan assured her.

“Promise,” Sabé agreed. She gave Linz’s meaty shoulder a squeeze before the Besalisk took her leave, allowing the medic to float inside toward the infants still cooing and kicking their feet on their blanket.

“Until we go to Dantooine,” Sabé muttered after she’d closed the door, “we need to be more subtle about all this.” She gestured toward the droid, the hoverpram, and everything else Bail Organa had provided. “Our neighbors don’t have the means for such luxury.”

“It’s not thieves who worry me,” said Obi-Wan. He bit down on whatever he wanted to say next, but Sabé thought she knew.

“You’re right. We’ve drawn attention, and we can’t rule out that whoever was lurking out there wanted us. Whether it’s a common thief or one of Palpatine’s minions looking for you,” she said, “we have to leave, and soon.”

Her eyes raked her small apartment, the space that had nurtured her through the loss of her father, then her mother, now Padmé…and seen the addition of two beautiful infants and the love of the man she never thought she’d see again, much less marry. It would pain her to leave this place. But leave they must.

A wave of fatigue made her reach for a chair and sit heavily in it. Just now work with the Rebellion seemed a tall order; she hadn’t even managed to put on proper clothing yet. She reached for a piece of bacon and took a bite, then raised her eyes to find Obi-Wan scrutinizing her, a vertical wrinkle between his brows betraying his concern.

“I think—” Sabé swallowed. The tailring left a greasy aftertaste in her mouth. “I think the medic needs to draw my blood.”

Instead of appearing surprised, Obi-Wan merely nodded in agreement.

“I’ll get dressed,” she said, heaving to her feet and feeling his eyes on her back as she crossed to the bedroom. It would take the droid a few more minutes to examine Luke and Leia and to speak with Obi-Wan. Maybe by then the blood would have returned to her buzzing head.

While she picked out clothes at random and automatically put them on, Sabé heard the droid intone its results: the children remained healthy, all objective measurements “within normal parameters.” Then it asked Obi-Wan its series of subjective questions: were the babies sleeping, eating, crying, laughing, tracking objects with their eyes, pushing up with their arms when on their stomachs, and so forth. The droid recorded the murmured responses one by one into its databanks.

Silence told Sabé they’d concluded. She glanced in the bedroom mirror on her way back to the office and saw a pale face with colorless lips staring back at her. When she turned Obi-Wan was there, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. He reached a hand out, and when she clasped it he pulled her into him, wrapping strong arms around her waist.

“Let’s find out,” he whispered into her ear before he kissed it.

Her heart thudded in response, and she nodded against his cheek.

They sat together on the couch and Sabé asked the droid to administer the test.

It was a simple procedure. A needle stick, insertion of the blood sample into a panel, and a rapid announcement in velvety metallic tones: “Human female, pregnant.”

With a pounding heart, Sabé looked at Obi-Wan. Instead of finding doubt or worry on his face, she saw him close his eyes and then open them again in wonder, an expression of awe that slowly bloomed into a smile, which matched an altogether unexpected excitement growing in her chest.

They reached for each other’s faces and kissed, a gentle seal on the news they’d just received.

“I can perform a sonogram,” said the droid, heedless of the parents’ reactions, “if you would like to see the fetus. I would be able to estimate the date of conception and offer an expected due date, as well, if you wish.”

“Yes, of course, yes,” came Obi-Wan’s immediate response to the droid. He turned his flushed face back to Sabé. “I mean, if you want—”

“Don’t be silly,” Sabé interrupted with a smile. “Let’s take a look.”

She lay back on the couch and slid her dark leggings down a few inches so the droid could place its smooth instrument on her lower belly. Obi-Wan, seated beside her outstretched legs, grasped her hand as a small door in the droid’s chest glided open to reveal a screen. On it appeared a black-and-white image of a tiny, nut-shaped form, inside which an undulating movement pulsed; the droid explained that was its heartbeat.

A heartbeat.

Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed hers harder and she looked up to see his eyes glistening with emotion as he watched the little being on the screen. She looked back, drawn by the infinitesimal heart’s soundless but insistent  _ beat-beat-beat-beat _ , and felt her own eyes fill with tears.

Perhaps they’d been foolish to let this happen, but just now she could only feel that it was absolutely right.

“Single fetus, viable,” reported the droid. “Gestation: approximately eight standard weeks. Estimated due date: thirty-two standard weeks from today.”

A spring baby, if they stayed on Naboo—which, Sabé had to remind herself, they hadn’t planned to do. At least Dantooine had a similar climate, with lots of lakes and rivers. Raising children there might feel like home.

“Thank you,” she managed, sitting up and giving a nod to the droid. “That will be all.”

Before it left it communicated information to Sabé’s datapad regarding prenatal care, diet, exercise, and a schedule of checkups and sonograms. It left without a word of congratulations.

As soon as Obi-Wan closed the door he rushed back to Sabé’s side, kneeling in front of her on the rug and pressing lips to her cheeks and mouth, his hands cradling her jaw, and she accepted his attentions hungrily as she drank in in the sight of his sunkissed beard, his golden lashes, the fine lines around his eyes.

“Sabé,” he said at last, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’ve blessed me with so many gifts.”

“I hadn’t planned—” she began, but she didn’t want to diminish this moment with excuses. “I didn’t think—”

“Nor did I,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you I wasn’t protected—”

“And so should I. I thought you must—I never thought we’d actually—”

A rumble of laughter cut her off. “No, I didn’t, either. And I shouldn’t have assumed that you’d taken—”

“Obi-Wan.” She took his jaw in her hands, rubbing her fingers through his beard. “We haven’t even talked about whether we want a child of our own.”

He grew still. The blue of his eyes seemed to deepen as they looked into hers. “Yes. I do.”

A rush of relief flooded her, making her dizzy, for she was surprised to discover that she wanted this baby, too. Very much, in fact. “You’re sure?”

“The Jedi are an endangered species,” said Obi-Wan as he joined her on the couch, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously. “Shouldn’t we reproduce?”

Now it was her turn to laugh, though something about the way he looked at her made her giddy with desire. She quickly put on a straight face. “I suppose that would be a rational course of action.”

He smirked, but when he replied his tone was earnest. “There’s nothing rational or calculated about this. I’m beginning to think it’s purely natural. Inevitable, perhaps.”

Pressing his lips together while he thought, he ran his fingers along her hairline and down the nape of her neck, giving her shivers of pleasure. When he spoke again his voice was firm, full of conviction, and his eyes bore into hers as though he were already speaking his wedding vows to her.

“You’ve made a man of me, Sabé. A husband. A father. This is as it should be.”

He sat back and pulled her into him, and she rested her head under his chin. His arm lay along her side, fingers sliding between the thigh and calf of one of the legs she’d tucked under her. For a time they watched the children, now asleep on their blanket on the floor, pinkies touching, their menagerie still scattered around them like a constellation of stars.

“Qui-Gon always wondered,” he went on quietly, his voice rumbling under her cheek, “why the Jedi preferred to distance themselves from the very rites of passage that would complete their understanding of life as men and women. He yearned for a more holistic experience, and spoke of it often. I think the others on the Council thought he merely wanted to excuse what they referred to as his ‘dalliances.’ I admit I wondered that, too, when I was old enough to think of such things. But now…”

Obi-Wan’s stomach rose and fell in a sigh. He reached for Sabé’s waist and rested a warm palm on her still-flat belly.

With a wrench of her heart, Sabé realized he’d spoken of the Jedi in the past tense. There were so few left, all of them scattered, unsure how to reach one another, or whether they should attempt it. Many more would be hunted down and killed. Had they already? She and Obi-Wan had been so happy they’d stopped reading the holos as often. She made a mental note to revisit that practice.

But just now they had other matters to consider.

“I never thought I’d be in a position to have a child,” she admitted. “My work was— _ is _ —too dangerous. None of Padmé’s other handmaidens had husbands or children. They took lovers, but always without risk. In a way, our lives as handmaidens were not unlike that of the Jedi. We committed our lives to a cause, forsaking all else. Forsaking our own futures.”

Obi-Wan’s arms tightened around her, and she knew that he understood.

She grew silent, thinking about how Padmé couldn’t blame her handmaiden for wanting a life of her own. If she’d only known that Sabé was merely stepping from one denial into another, fleeing a man whom she’d thought could never share her life.

After a sigh, she went on. “When I transferred to the Rebellion, it was the same. Some people had partners, but many found it simpler not to, or to be casual about it. I held myself at arm’s length from people.” She flushed, though they were long past being coy about her romantic history. “From men. It seemed the intelligent thing to do. Aside from the fact that there was one man I dreamed of.”

A smile spread across Obi-Wan’s face, and Sabé thought her heart would crack in two at the pride and love she read there.

“But even with him—” She sat up to face the man himself, raked her fingers through his beard. “—I was quite good at holding myself apart, for many long years.”

“Until Padmé drew us together,” said Obi-Wan, catching her fingers and kissing them again, “despite ourselves.”

Sabé smiled through a stab of grief. “She was never one to be denied.”

“Nor are you.” He pressed her hand to his chest, over his heart. “Or the Force, for that matter. It’s said that the Force never fails.”

He was quiet, and Sabé knew he was thinking of all those who lay dead at its feet.

“Maybe I should give the Force some of the credit for bringing me to you,” he said. “Or you to me.”

Sabé remembered what she’d overheard Yoda telling Bail’s hologram on Polis Massa, that perhaps Obi-Wan’s path ran alongside hers somehow. No. What he’d said was that he sensed Obi-Wan was destined to walk this path to prepare him for his future. Whatever that meant.

A hollow feeling in her stomach made her lean forward to press her lips to her betrothed's. They would make their future, together, with their lost friends’ children and their own. Sabé had to believe that.

“I never told you what I saw when we meditated,” said Obi-Wan as he drew back, his hand still over the one resting on his chest. He hesitated before he spoke, as though he wasn’t sure if he should, or whether he ought to share everything.    


"I saw myself pregnant," Sabé blurted out. 

"So did I." He didn't seem surprised.

Happiness fluttered in her chest, as she remembered the feeling that had enveloped her during that part of the vision. All the more now, knowing that he'd shared it.

“But that wasn’t the first time," Obi-Wan went on. "Similar images have dominated my dreams for weeks now. About eight, to be precise. I never said anything to you because—” He paused again. Though he, too, smiled, he looked far away for a moment, his face careworn. He shook himself and went on, the light coming back to his eyes as though it had never been absent. “Well, I thought it was wishful thinking on my part.”

“You should’ve told me,” she said gently.

“I know,” he replied, bringing her fingers to his lips before clasping them in his own. “But Jedi are taught to be wary of visions. Our own fears and desires can warp what we think we see.”

“Ah,” she said. “But we both saw this.”

He nodded. “And we both saw us fighting alongside the Rebel Alliance.”

“Even if everything else we saw—”

He held up a hand. “Let’s not examine it yet. For the moment, we can be satisfied that we are in agreement. If nothing else, the Force confirmed our desires are one, and perhaps that is enough for now. We will marry. We will have this child, and we will love him.”

“Or her.”

“Or her.” His broad smile preceded a conciliatory bow of his head. “We’ll raise Luke and Leia as our own. And we’ll work for the Rebellion. Together.”

Although she’d caught the flicker of his eyes toward her belly and noticed that he had said “work for” rather than “fight for,” Sabé thought that was indeed enough, for now. The conversation about the ongoing use of her considerable fighting skills during her pregnancy could wait for another day.

“So,” he said as his fingers stroked her belly, “perhaps we should set a wedding date?”

“As wise as he is handsome,” replied Sabé.

Obi-Wan chuckled.

“I’ve nearly finished altering my gown.”

“And you still won’t let me see it?” He kept rubbing the skin under her tunic, giving her tingles.

With effort, she shook her head. He’d asked every day since she’d taken her mother’s dress out of storage, and she wasn’t about to cave now.

“Sitting out here while you’ve been working on your  _ very secret project _ , I’m fairly certain I’ve read every book you own three times by now.”

“No such thing as too much wisdom,” she quipped, eliciting another laugh. But he seemed far too delighted by his banishment; perhaps he deserved a little mercy in return for his patience.

“Shall we ask Bail to stand as witness?” she offered.

“You read my mind,” he said with a smile. “What about our other happy news?”

“Let’s wait,” she said, though part of her fairly ached to share it, as though speaking it aloud to others would make it more real. “You’re still a wanted man. The Emperor would redouble his efforts if he thought he could take your child, too.”

His mouth became a thin line. “Of course. Let’s keep mum about it until we’re safe at the Rebel base.”

“Let me contact the Sisterhood and see if they could marry us next week,” Sabé said. “Our cover story for Linz and the other neighbors, if they see us dressed up, could be the blessing of the children. We’ll do that at the temple, too, at the same time.”

“As wise as she is beautiful,” he said with a half-grin, and Sabé rewarded him with a poke in the ribs.

“I’ll send Bail a message about standing as witness.”

“Good,” said Obi-Wan. “And…I ought to tell Yoda.”

As though in response to the idea of that confrontation, Luke chose that moment to wake up. He cried lustily, smacking his sister’s cheek with a flailing arm. She growled and, red-faced, drowned out his protestations with her howling.

“Well, perhaps after we tend the children,” Obi-Wan said, hoisting himself to his feet. “Bottles or nappies?”

“I’ll change them this time.”

“Bless you,” he breathed as he crossed to the kitchen to warm the milk.

Kneeling before the louder baby, Sabé picked up Leia first, remembering with a wry smile her father’s favorite idiom,  _ The squeaky wheel gets the grease. _ He meant that in reference to Sabé demanding what she knew she deserved, whether at school or work. Somehow she didn’t doubt that Leia would get everything she wanted. Luke might have to work harder or longer, but he’d be fine, too.

And together they’d be unstoppable.

As she changed one nappy and then the next, she considered what Obi-Wan had reported from his last conversation with Yoda, that the children might be some sort of beacon in the Force. She certainly couldn’t imagine her life without them now, but she’d put that down to spending three months with them. They were Padmé’s children and she loved Padmé. And she had grown to love the children, too, with all her heart.

But there  _ was _ something more. She knew it, somehow. She’d seen it in Obi-Wan, even before she’d fallen in love with him.

Sabé frowned. Those people who’d swarmed them in the park had seen it, too. So had countless others who’d stopped to  _ ooh _ and  _ aah _ over the twins on their evening walks before then.

Without realizing it she’d grown still, her hand settled over her belly.

“Ready,” said Obi-Wan when he returned with the bottles.

She blinked and shook the worry from her mind; there was time enough for that later. They settled on the couch together, and once more she was struck by how calm Obi-Wan seemed with Luke in his arms. If she knew ahead of time she had to confront someone, she would already be rehearsing the scenario in her mind, trying to anticipate every argument, mentally finessing her own retorts.

Not Obi-Wan. He seemed, if anything, more resolved than he had been before he’d decided that today was the day to contact the little old Master.

To him, there was no shame in the turn their plans had taken, the two rivers of their lives converging as one, wherever they may lead. And if he wouldn’t quail under the judgmental gaze of a respected elder, nor would she.

The cool autumn sun blazed into the kitchen and dining area when she reheated their untouched breakfast. As she poured two cups of caf, the fatigue hit her again; if she were a cat, she’d gladly curl into the spot of warmth on the floor runner near the door. After placing the twins in their crib for their morning nap, Obi-Wan shooed Sabé toward the table, where she gratefully sat while he brought over the warmed plates. The greasy pans still sat in the sink, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel annoyed by the mess after the lengths he’d gone to this morning to care for her—before he’d even had confirmation that she was pregnant.

While they ate, they talked about the ceremony, and she showed him some vows on her datapad that the Sisterhood of Requiescence had suggested. Obi-Wan’s smile transformed his face as he nodded his approval.

At last it was time. Obi-Wan crossed to the living room and, after leaning over the crib to make sure the children still slept soundly, sat in the desk chair in front of the hologram projector. Sabé insisted on washing the dishes while he contacted Yoda, to give him some privacy, assuring him she’d join him in the conversation if he deemed it appropriate.

Her heart pounded when she heard Yoda’s voice.

“Master Obi-Wan.”

“Master Yoda. Greetings. I trust you are well.”

“Indeed I am. And well you are, Senator Organa tells me.”

Their conversation was so stilted and distant that Sabé could only wonder again at what had really been said during their last interaction.

“We are. The children are thriving. Sabé and I are happy. In fact—” She heard him shift in his seat and glanced up to see he’d leaned forward in the chair. “—we have good news. We’ve decided to marry.”

There was a lengthy silence, during which Sabé had to force her eyes to remain on the dishes in the sink.

“Good news is it, for the last Jedi to abandon his Order?”

“There is no Order,” said Obi-Wan. “And I’m hardly the last.”

“Others we have not yet found alive.”

“Luke and Leia are strong in the Force. My place is with them and the woman I love. We can make sure they will carry on—”

“The Jedi way? Or  _ your _ way?”

Yoda’s words met silence.

“Inherited Qui-Gon’s defiance you have.”

“He’d be proud to see I’ve finally learned his teachings.”

“The Order’s teachings those were not.”

“I’m well aware,” said Obi-Wan. “As a Jedi I was taught self-reliance, but only within the constraints of what the Order permitted. In a sense, one could say the Jedi were trained to remain childlike. Even the Masters behaved as the children of the older Masters on the Council, until the older Masters died and the younger ones took up the mantle of ‘parent’ themselves. Qui-Gon refused this power imbalance, this endless parent-child dynamic, saying that it defied the natural laws of growth and maturity. He yearned for the day that I would outgrow him, for he knew that the fullness of life could only be experienced this way. I happen to agree with him now.”

“Failed him you have.”

There was a pause. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“A Jedi craves not happiness. Fleeting, it is.”

“The Jedi are decimated. Would you have me waste away, alone for the rest of my life? People aren’t meant to be alone, and neither were the Jedi. That was why there were always Masters and Padawans.”

“Grieving, you are. As I am. But alone I have never felt. ”

Something about the pause following those words made Sabé look up again as she dried a dish. The diminutive figure had leaned forward as though trying to see Obi-Wan more clearly.

“Feel, do you, that the Force has abandoned you?”

“No.” Obi-Wan sat up straighter. “I feel that it has guided me here. It’s with me. With us.”

Sabé saw him clamp his mouth shut as though biting back more.  _ With our child _ , she was certain he was about to say.

Yoda merely closed his eyes and lowered his head, and she couldn’t discern whether he wore a look of resignation or disappointment.

“Strong the Force is, with all of you.” He raised his eyes. The flickering blue light surged for a moment as his piercing gaze settled once more unwaveringly on Obi-Wan. “Too strong. Of your own making this trap is.”

Obi-Wan folded his hands in his lap and sighed heavily. “We’ve made arrangements to relocate to Dantooine. The children will be safe there, on the Rebel base.”

“Until the day they are not.” Obi-Wan inhaled to speak, but Yoda went on. “Endanger others, you will. Soon enough Darth Sidious will follow your light, if sensed it already he has not. Too bright it is.”

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at the sleeping babies. Finally he turned back to the hologram, his jaw set and eyes ablaze. “And where else, pray tell, would they be safer, if not with a Jedi and a professional bodyguard?”

“Please you, my answer will not,” Yoda replied. “And hear it, you will not. Not today.”

“I’m certain you’ll inform me when I am ready to hear it, Master Yoda.”

Yoda drew himself up, returning Obi-Wan’s glare with a raised chin.

Slowly, Obi-Wan reached forward and switched off the projector. The ghostlike image flickered and disappeared, leaving him to rub his palms absently along the tops of his thighs as he stared at the empty spot for several long seconds.

“Well,” he said at length, running a hand through his hair, “that went well.”

“It’s lovely to know he’s so happy for us.” Sabé put down the dish she’d been drying for the past two minutes and went to him. She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips there as he ran his hands up her back and into her hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“We have nothing to be sorry about,” he said, rubbing a scruffy cheek against hers. “Happiness may be fleeting, but love is eternal. It seems he’s lost sight of that after nine hundred years.”

“Maybe so,” Sabé agreed. She sat back to look at him. Although his face was serious, his eyes focused entirely on her. He was  _ with _ her. If Yoda’s words had troubled him, they had not swayed him.

“At least that’s over,” he said. “We don’t have to hide our love from anyone.”

Smiling, she understood that he was right, even as a pang in her chest reminded her of the queen who’d had to hide her love--a love that had been her undoing.

“Yoda said I’d failed Qui-Gon,” he went on, “but that’s not entirely true. If I’ve failed him, it’s only by learning his truths too late to be of any use to Anakin. I wish--” A wry smile darkened his features as his gaze flickered down to the hands she’d rested on his chest.. “Well, the same thing I’ve wished every day since--” He still couldn’t bring himself to say it.  _ Since Anakin died _ .  _ Since I killed him _ .

If love was eternal, so was grief.

Sabé pressed her lips to his, letting herself drown for a moment with him. Finally he drew back and captured her eyes again. “But if none of that happened--”

“Then none of this would have happened.” She nodded. “I believe that.”

“The Force never fails.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

_QUEEN OF TREASON?_ read the holos early on the morning of Sabé's wedding.

_Queen Apailana's response to a series of what some deem irrevocable failures has called her loyalty to Emperor Palpatine, a fellow Naboo, into question. At the end of the official three-month mourning period for former monarch Padmé Amidala, the Queen addressed her request for an investigation into the cause of the Senator's death._

_"It is my deepest regret that my search for answers instead sparked controversy around a great woman dedicated to a cause far more significant than her private life. The ensuing claims that her child may have survived compounded her family's grief, as well as that of dozens of other families whose infants were kidnapped by extortionists. For this, I am truly sorry."_

_Asked whether she now accepts that Senator Amidala was murdered by a rogue Jedi, Queen Apailana stated, "Murder is a serious accusation, which I am hesitant to make without convincing evidence and due course. In the case of Her Excellency, a suspect has not even been named. The Naboo value justice as highly as peace. In fact, justice is vital to the continuance of peace on our world, and throughout the galaxy."_

_Her Royal Highness went on to say that Amidala's close friendship with the Jedi, which began during the Invasion of Naboo by the Trade Federation and continued with unwavering trust until the very end of her life, made it difficult for Apailana to believe them responsible._

_A representative of Emperor Palpatine responded: "The Naboo Crisis occurred when Queen Apailana was in her infancy. She holds the distinction of being the youngest person elected to the monarchy of that planet, her campaign staunchly supported by Senator Amidala, of whom her idealism is reminiscent. Queen Apailana's loyalties are understandable, if misled. She would do well to learn that loyalty is better given to the living than to the dead."_

With a restraint that might have impressed even Obi-Wan, Sabé didn't throw the datapad across the room in a flare of anger. She did mutter, "Karking Imperials," shut off the datapad, and placed it on the arm of the sofa. The absence of its glow left the apartment almost entirely dark, except for the nightlight in the corner behind the crib.

Hugging her mug to her chest, she hunched further into the heavy brown folds of Obi-Wan's cloak. Although he hadn't worn it in months, it still smelled like him. Like the worlds he'd traveled to, the battles he'd fought and won.

Or thought he'd won.

The flat was as silent as it was dark. Little grunts and groans sounded from the twins' crib, but Sabé heard nothing at all from down the hall where she'd left Obi-Wan in bed. She sipped her warm milk--more lukewarm now--and listened to the holos replay in her mind as clearly as if they'd been audio recordings. She heard Padmé in Apailana's words, heard herself emulating the Amidala persona. Little more than children, all of them, leading a planet--a _Republic_ \--against an unseen enemy who'd turned out to be a ghost viper in the nest. Palpatine, manipulating them thirteen years ago. The game over before they even knew it was being played.

Luke's wail blared as suddenly as a siren. Sabé set the empty mug on the end table and shrugged out of the cocoon of the cloak as she stood, at once chilly in her short silk robe, but her shivering stopped when  she lifted the warm baby out of the crib.

_It isn't over yet_ , she thought, grateful for the loud reminder. _There's still hope._ Right here in pee-soaked pajamas, wailing in her ear. And his twin sister slept right through it.

"Sabé?"

She glanced over her shoulder as she lay Luke on the changing table and saw Obi-Wan stumbling around the corner, shirtless and with his loose sleep pants slung low on his hips as though hastily pulled on.

"I sensed Luke waking," he rasped, rubbing his eyes, the other hand on the wall, "and you weren't in bed. How'd you get to him so quickly?"

"Because I was already up, sleepyhead."

"Oh." He lowered his hand, eyes brightening, alert, as they went to the sofa. "More work on your gown?"

"No, I finished that." Grinning, Sabé turned back to Luke, who wasn't screaming anymore, but still wasn't happy about being wet. She began to unsnap the wet onesie. "You should go back to bed. We've a big day ahead."

The bare soles of his feet scuffed over the floor as Obi-Wan came further into the living room. "But you're up."

"I can never sleep the night before my wedding."  

"You've experienced many nights before weddings, have you?" He stood behind her, fingertips on her hip as the other hand tucked her hair behind her ear to bare her cheek to his lips. The scruff on his chin prickled.

She turned her head, and he leaned back, a wide grin revealing his teeth in the dark. "Could you get Luke a fresh pair of pajamas?" she asked.

With a light squeeze on her hip, Obi-Wan went to the cabinet and rummaged through it. By the time he returned to the changing table, Sabé had Luke in a fresh diaper. As she re-dressed him, Obi-Wan leaned over the crib and felt the spot where Luke had lain.

"The sheet's a little damp," he said. "Should we change it?"

"I don't want to wake Leia. We'll let it air out while he falls back asleep."

As she lifted the baby, kicking happily in his dry pajamas, Obi-Wan reached out to take him. Sabé didn't hand him over, gripped by a sudden possessive feeling her that made her hold him tight to her chest instead, resting her cheek against the downy blond head.

"It seems like you hold Luke more than I do," she said.

Obi-Wan didn't deny it. He shrugged and admitted, "I monopolize him because he's because he's the snuggly one."

Sabé watched him adjust Leia's blanket, then stroke the backs of his fingers across her cheek. How far he'd come since those first days on Polis Massa, when he hardly knew how to hold the twins, let alone show affection. Over the months, she'd witnessed him fall in love with Luke and Leia as surely as he had with her. She couldn't imagine their true father looking on them with more tenderness. Obi-Wan _was_ their father.

Her heart juddered behind her ribs.

"Is this how it's going to be with our baby?" she asked. "Will we argue over whose turn it is to hold him?"

"Or _her_ ," he corrected with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps we should make a schedule. For the sake of marital harmony."

Not that they'd ever argued much at all, about anything.

"We'll need a schedule for all sorts of reasons," Sabé said as she settled on the sofa with Luke, "with a newborn and year-old twins."

It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but that serene expression might have faltered.  Obi-Wan's tone was resigned as he lowered himself beside her. "Sleep won't be on this schedule much, will it?"

"At least we're used to that."

Sabé closed her eyes and sank into his arm around her shoulder, the weight of the baby against her chest. Obi-Wan's hand brushed hers as he placed it on Luke's back. Moments like these were well worth losing sleep for. 

"Why can't you sleep tonight, my love?" his voice rumbled through her. "Nervous?"

"Pregnant."

She'd known expectant mothers had trouble sleeping as the baby grew, but she hadn't been prepared this early to tumble into bed exhausted only to be kept away by restless legs. Or, if she did fall asleep, for the dreams to prevent her from truly resting. Not nightmares, precisely, but dreams so vivid they nevertheless felt real.

"Oh," said Obi-Wan, with a tinge of amused apology.

Sabé covered his hand on Luke's back with her own. "And very excited."

She felt Obi-Wan's kiss on the top of her head. "I hope my ability to sleep the night before my wedding doesn't reflect poorly on my excitement."

" _Hmm._ Maybe you ought to dance a little jig to prove it."

"Maybe I ought to save that for Club Deeja." He huffed out a laugh, and Luke's back rose and fell heavily beneath their hands, his breath coming in steady puffs against her neck. After a few more minutes she got up to carry him back to the crib.

Obi-Wan noticed her datapad on the arm of the sofa. "Were you reading the holos?"

"You need to see the one about Queen Apailana."

The room brightened with the datapad light, but Luke didn't stir. The wet spot in the crib wasn't quite dry, so Sabé spread one of the burp cloths over it, then lay him on top and covered him with a blanket. She lingered by the crib, watching the two babies until their breath synchronized and their hands stretched toward each other, pinkies touching.

Obi-Wan was still reading when she returned to the sofa, that vertical line between his eyebrows visible as the night light and the glowing datapad played across his features. He looked up as she retrieved his cloak from where she'd discarded it, crumpled in the corner of the cushions, and started to pull it on.

"Is that my…?"

"I was too warm in bed, but then I got cold out here. You don't mind, do you?"

She could've gotten a blanket, but then she'd remembered his cloak bundled at the bottom of the backpack they carried on outings and wanted to feel the weight of it on her. It hadn't occurred to her there might be something improper about wearing a Jedi's cloak. But Obi-Wan gave his head a slight shake, smiling gently.

Sabé tugged it up over her shoulders, freed her hair from the neck, and sat at the end of the sofa, legs curled beneath her. "It makes me feel safe."

She didn't miss the subtle shift in Obi-Wan's posture, the straightening of his shoulders, as he adjusted to face her more fully. "Did you feel _un_ safe? Because of this?" He indicated the datapad on his knee.

"If we weren't already planning to leave Naboo, it would make me want to as soon as possible."

But that wasn't what had driven Sabé from bed. Although Obi-Wan gave a _hmm_ of agreement, she could see from the deepening of the lines of his face that he knew it, too. He didn't prod her.

"I would have a better appreciation for the Queen of Naboo being a crunchbug in the Emperor's cowl if we weren't hiding here," he said, rubbing his forefinger over his mustache.

"I'm worried for Apailana. For her handmaidens. They're so young."

"No younger than Padmé. Isn't that the entire point here? The belief that the young have a purer form of wisdom?"

"Yes. But I look back now and can't help but think that a fourteen-year-old should never have that burden to bear. I was only eighteen. Just a kid myself, but the Queen's first line of defense. No wonder my mother fretted."

Obi-Wan considered this. "I was twenty-five when I began training Anakin. Barely a Jedi Knight, yet I took a Padawan. The _Chosen One_ , no less." He exhaled and raked his hands through his hair as he leaned back against the sofa cushions once more. "That's one thing Master Yoda was right about."

"Right or wrong," Sabé said, "you and I were responsible for Anakin and Padmé. And now we're responsible for their children."

"Thank you for making me feel appallingly old."

But his eyes mirrored her quiet laughter as she took his hand and kissed the back of it, the fine golden hairs soft. When he turned his hand over in hers to cup her cheek, she was ready to tell him the real culprit behind her inability to sleep.

"I had the dream again."

"About Padmé?"

Sabé pressed her cheek harder into his palm. He scuffed the calloused pad of his thumb over her cheekbone as his fingers slid into her hair. The dream had been a recurring one for several weeks now, if not exactly regular. Padmé, calling for help, crying, _Where is he?_

"This time it wasn't Padmé," she said. Her heart pounded harder with her confession. "It was me."

Understanding flashed in his eyes, then he enveloped her in his embrace. His arms, strong and solid around her, made her feel far safer and more secure than his cloak and all it symbolized could.

"I'm here," he said into her hair. "With you. Always."

"I know you are." Sabé hugged him tightly, kissed the corner of his jaw, not minding the scruff against her lips, and leaned back in the circle of his arms. "It was just a silly dream."

Though that seemed like a foolish thing to say to the man who'd dreamed her pregnancy mere moments after it began.

"Maybe I am a little nervous after all," she went on, with a small huff of a laugh. "Maybe my brain hasn't accepted that the one thing I never dared to dream is going to come true."

The crisscrossed lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. He angled his head to brush his lips to hers, softly at first, but then opening to the sweep of her tongue, readily matching her fervor. Soon Sabé was stretched out beneath Obi-Wan, his hands pushing the cloak off her shoulders, when a rustling sound in the crib made him break the kiss to raise his head.

Sabé trailed her hands up over his bare chest and whispered, "We really should go back to bed and at least _try_ to get some more sleep."

"I know something that might help you," he replied, with a gleam in his eye as he moved off her and stood.

"You'd better not mean a mind trick." Sabé started to push herself upright, when suddenly his arms slid beneath her knees and her armpits, sweeping her up, cloak and all.

"Only if Plan A doesn't work," Obi-Wan said with a wink and carried her, laughing, to their bedroom.

~*~

Sensing Obi-Wan's gaze, Sabé looked up from the assortment of small tubs and tubes lined up on the 'fresher counter. The mirror, faintly clouded with steam, reflected him beside her, wearing a towel around his waist and a knowing expression on his face. She realized she was chewing her thumbnail and lowered her hand.

"I'm not sure I remember what all this is for," she said. "I haven't worn makeup in months."

With two newborns to care for, there simply wasn't time most days for more than basic hygiene. Anyway, not being made up helped to distract from the fact that she clearly hadn't been recently pregnant.

Today, neither of these things was a concern.

"Must be a special occasion," Obi-Wan said casually as he opened the cabinet above the sink to take out his beard trimmer.

"Oh, it is." Sabé struggled to keep a straight face, without success. "It's my wedding day."

Obi-Wan grinned broadly. "What a coincidence. It's mine, too."

His voice contained a hint of wonder that made her heart perform wild aerial stunts. He set the shaver down on the counter and stepped slightly behind her, beard prickling pleasantly where his cheek touched hers and his chin settled on her shoulder. The silk of her robe whispered beneath his hands as he slid them over her hips, and she sighed, relaxing back against his chest.

"If your groom feels anything like I do, then he'd find you utterly enchanting even if you turned up at the temple exactly as you are now."

"I'm sure he would." In the mirror, Sabé watched him press soft lips to her cheekbone and the corner of her jaw. She tilted her head sideways to allow them access to her neck, her hands covering his as they grazed upward from her belly to her breasts. "The holy woman, on the other hand, might be a little embarrassed."

" _Hmm_." Lips still on her collarbone where her robe slipped off her shoulder, Obi-Wan turned his head to meet her gaze in the mirror. "And Bail."

Where Yoda openly disapproved of their nuptials, Bail had offered enthusiastic support and accepted their request to stand as witness. He was even going to take them to the temple in a speeder.

For a moment Obi-Wan contemplated their entwined reflection, then his gaze flickered downward to the counter. He withdrew his arms from around her and picked up a pot of crimson cream. Sabé turned toward him, watching with interest as he unscrewed the top and dipped his forefinger inside. Before she could process what he was doing, she felt a cool dab on her left cheek, then the right.

"That's lip stain," she told him.

"In that case…"

Her breath caught as Obi-Wan's fingertips closed lightly around her chin, tilting it upward. He swiped more of the red across her upper lip, then drew a vertical dash down the center of the lower.

"There." He sounded a little breathless himself. "Exactly how you looked the first time I saw you."

Sabé knew without looking in the mirror that he'd painted her like the Queen of Naboo. Nevertheless, she laughed when she did, just as Padmé had so long ago.

"Did I get it wrong?" Obi-Wan asked.

"That's what I said when Padmé started laughing the first time we tried on the full regalia. Of course she couldn't answer, because by then she’d lost her breath." Elected Queen of a planet for her wisdom beyond her years, yet still a giggly teenager from time to time. "She laughed until she cried, and ruined her makeup. Mine, too, once I realized she was amused by how impossible we were to tell apart. ' _We could fool our own mothers_ ,' she said."

"Or a Jedi Master and his Padawan," Obi-Wan said, smiling. 

"The ultimate test," Sabé replied.

"I can picture you both vividly. It's a sweet story."

And it was the first time, Sabé realized, that she'd spoken of Padmé without her throat and heart aching.  

It started to pound as they stared at themselves in the mirror: the Queen and the Jedi. Two people who were never supposed to be married, let alone to each other.

And yet…

"Do you know what it means?" she asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"The cheek spots symbolize balance and symmetry," she explained. His gaze dropped to her lips, the lower tingling at the memory of his delicate touch. "This is the Scar of Remembrance. Every monarch for eight centuries has worn it in memory of the Time of Suffering before King Jafan united the warring city-states and ushered in the Time of Great Peace."

That time had ended, not only with the rise of the Empire, but with Padmé's death. _The Queen of Peace_ , the obituaries had called her, three short months ago.

"Balance and peace." Obi-Wan's voice, his hand on her shoulder, drew her back from the precipice of sadness.

Smiling, Sabé said, "It would seem that the Jedi and the Naboo monarchy share common values."

"Padmé certainly did." His mind was always so in tune with her own. She leaned toward him, and his hand trailed from her shoulder to her back, stroking soothingly up and down her spine.

"I hope we can help the children to know her," she said.

Of course _the children_ now included the one growing inside her. The one she and Obi-Wan had made together. But the wish was her same for all their children, born by her or by Padmé.

His other hand moved just below the knot of her robe's sash, fingers slipping between the folds to stroke her flat stomach. He touched it often, since the medical droid confirmed her pregnancy. As if he sought a connection with his child, or had already found one; Sabé had yet to, except that it made her very tired, occasionally a little queasy. This morning, the only flutters she felt were due to nerves and, of course, excitement. Both at what was to come, and what he was doing to her now.

"We will." Obi-Wan's breath was hot in her ear as he kissed it. The hand on her belly slid further inside the robe, skimming her hipbone before finally settling at the top of her buttocks. "The children will have you to carry on her legacy. My Queen of Peace…"

Sabé's lips parted, perhaps in protest, though no sound escaped save for a hum of pleasure as he met them with his own.

"My brave handmaiden," he murmured between kisses. "My love…"

And then there _was_ no between as he deepened the kiss.

His fingertips curled into her jaw and the base of her spine as the sweep of his tongue made her insides buckle. She clung to his wrist, for she felt actually weak in the knees. When her hip met the edge of the counter she shifted to lean back against it, arching up on the balls of her feet and letting go of him to hoist herself onto the counter.

The change in position broke the kiss, but he pushed apart her knees to stand between them, hands gliding over her thighs as he leaned over her. He paused, forehead resting against hers.

"My _wife_ ," he said, again in that tone of wonderment that made Sabé's smile bloom.

But it also reminded her why they were in the 'fresher in the first place, that they only had a limited window of time to get ready before the twins woke from their nap and demanded attention. She only allowed another moment of indulgence before she placed her palm against Obi-Wan's chest and pushed him away.

"Not if we don't make it to our wedding," she said.

He blinked his hazy eyes, chest heaving beneath her hand as he huffed out a breath. "I suppose it won't do to be late."

"No. It won't. We have all night for _that_."

" _All_ the nights." He grinned, leaning in again. As if they hadn't been awake together in the small hours of this morning engaged in that very activity.

Sabé held him at bay, kissing the tip of his nose. "Balance, my Jedi."

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally got on with trimming his beard. Sabé wiped the red off her lips and cheeks and applied her makeup, deciding on subtle, natural. Even complexion, a hint of a blush, lined eyes, softly shimmering lips. She wanted to look her best, but also like herself; Obi-Wan wouldn't look at her with more love and longing in his eyes just because she had on more makeup.

"Should I have had a haircut?" Obi-Wan asked, a consternated line running vertically between his brows.

"Absolutely not." Sabé reached up to comb her fingers through the red-gold strands, which reached the nape of his neck now. As they slid through her fingers, her hand found his shoulder, and she gave him a not-so-gentle nudge toward the 'fresher door. "But I'm going to have to throw you out now. I need to do _my_ hair, and I want it to surprise you. Along with my dress."

He glanced back at her with a grin. "My imagination is running riot with the possibilities of what Naboo wedding fashion might entail."

"Hint: I won't be wearing a feathered headdress."

"I must admit I'm relieved to hear it. Feathers seem likely to make kissing the bride a ticklish prospect."

Sabé poked him in the side, and he squirmed, knocking his shoulder against the door frame.

"All right, I'm going." He pulled the door shut before she could tickle him again.

Alone, she set to work on the hairstyle she'd thought up one night while she worked on her gown. She worried her hairdressing skills were rusty. It was five years since she'd styled Padmé's on her final day as queen, the day she'd handed in her own notice. Even back then, she'd felt far more comfortable with a blaster in her hands than strands of hair. But as she divided her own into four sections to weave a braid above each ear and on either side of the base of her skull, it all came back to her. The way her mind focused fully on winding the strands of hair back and forth around her fingers, until she fell into almost a trance. Not unlike meditation.

Her lips twitched with a laugh, and she made a mental note to tell Obi-Wan that learning how to style hair wasn't unlike the lightsaber forms and katas that had comprised his Jedi training. She continued to smile as she circled the braids across the base of her skull and secured them together with pins, which she imagined his nimble fingers pulling out later. Or could he use the Force?

She shook her head at herself. Clearly, her nerves and excitement were making her giddy. In spite of that, her hair turned out exactly as she'd envisioned it--better even--and she cracked the 'fresher door and called out, "Is it safe to come out?"

"All clear!" Obi-Wan's voice drifted to her from the direction of the living room.

As she stepped out into the hall, one of the babies began to fuss; she recognized it at once to be Luke's high-pitched, plaintive cry.

"Pajamas _are_ more comfortable, young one, I quite agree," Obi-Wan commiserated. Sabé paused to listen to the mild lilt of his voice as he got the babies dressed. "But they're simply not appropriate attire for a wedding. It's all very new to me, too, dressing for an occasion…We shall muddle through together. We're getting quite good at that, aren't we?"

Smiling, Sabé rubbed her belly, then went to dress.

She took her gown from the back of the closet, where she'd hung it beneath one of her winter cloaks to hide it from Obi-Wan. An actual wedding dress. Her mother's. Although Sabé had spent most of her free time and a couple of sleepless nights since he'd asked her to marry him making alterations, as she slipped into the gauzy ivory layers, she trembled.

First the simple under-dress. It fell only to mid-calf, for her mother had not been as tall as Sabé, nor as slender, but she'd come to loathe floor-length gowns during her tenure as a handmaiden. Leggings underneath would keep her warm, as well as be more practical for the ceremony. Originally the underdress had sleeves, too, but they were too short, so she'd removed and refashioned them into arm wraps which left the shoulders fashionably bare. Over that, a tabard, which she'd opened down the middle so she could cross the pieces over her chest and create more visual interest and a fitted silhouette, cinched at the waist by an elegant silver belt that had been a gift from Padmé. A pair of silver flats she'd bought for going out, and then never gotten around to actually going anywhere in, completed the ensemble.

Almost.

She'd just taken down a carved wooden box from the top shelf of the closet when a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

"Sabé?" came Obi-Wan's muffled voice. "Not to rush you, but Bail's arrived."

"I'm nearly ready." She shut the closet door and carried the case to the dresser. "Why don't you two get the kids settled in the speeder and I'll meet you down there?"

"Exactly what I was going to suggest," he replied, and she could picture his smile. "Are…you wearing your dress?"

"Yes…"

"And you really intend to not let me see it until we're at the temple?"

His impatience to see her was a test of her resolve, but she said, "Absolutely. It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

"But we're riding there in the same speeder."

"Exactly. We're pushing our luck as it is."

"For the record, in my experience, there's no such thing as luck," Obi-Wan said, a little sulkily.

"Noted!" Sabé called after him as she heard his boots retreat down the hall. She didn't know if she believed in luck or not. But she knew that something much more powerful than blind chance, or even fate, must have brought them together.

It was the will of the Force. It had to be.

Her hands shook again as she raised the hinged lid of the case and lifted out the headpiece. Very few of her parents' belongings had any value beyond the sentimental, except for this single heirloom. The bridal cap had been her mother's, passed down from her grandmother.

The last time she'd seen it had been one of the last times she'd seen her mother. Rupan had given Sabé an ultimatum: marry, or move on. She'd chosen to move on.

"But you haven't, have you?" her mother said when Sabé broke the news to her. "There was one that got away, and no one else will ever measure up."

"How did you know?" Sabé had never mentioned Obi-Wan to her mother, not even to name the Jedi she'd spent two days with on Tatooine whilst impersonating the queen.

"When you have children of your own, you'll know." Her mother's smile had faded away with her sigh; they never did linger long, since Sabé's father died. "I won't ask you to tell me who he was. Whoever he was, I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It _couldn't_ work out," Sabé had blurted out.

Her mother looked pained. Then she'd brought out her bridal headpiece, and said, "I want to see you wear this. Not because I think you need a protector or I'm desperate to be a grandmother but because…I want to know you won't go through life alone."

"I'm not even thirty," Sabé had said. "There's still time."

But there wasn't time. Not for her mother. And it had almost been enough to make Sabé run back to Rupan, to throw herself into his arms and tell him she'd made a terrible mistake and of course she wanted to marry him. Instead, she'd thrown herself into her work, sent a message to Padmé saying that if the offer was still open, she'd like to see if Bail Organa had any use for her.

Gingerly, Sabé settled the bridal cap onto her head. Crystals and pearls glistened in a web of thin silver chain against the dark crown of her hair. Beaded tassels framed her face, dangling from her temples past her shoulders. The headpiece was the only jewelry she needed. Sabé blinked at her reflection in the mirror; a bride smiled back at her.

A flash of red over her shoulder drew her eye to the windowsill. _What in Shiraya's name…?_ Sabé turned around, as if she expected to see something different in reality than she had in the mirror, then, as if in a dream, crossed the room.

The cactus her mother had given her, which had struggled for so long, had sprouted a bud.

As if somehow, her mother knew. She _saw._

The bedroom refracted by joyful tears, Sabé plucked her coat from the closet . For all her insistence about tradition and good luck, she found herself rather reluctant to put it on. She drew the hood up anyway, careful not to muss her braids, making sure the edges of it concealed the headpiece fully. It wasn't just for Obi-Wan; their neighbors' suspicions would be aroused if they saw a woman they believed already to be married dressed in bridal finery.

One in particular, whose cigarillo smoke pricked Sabé's nostrils before she took one step outside the apartment.

"There you are," Linz greeted. "I was hanging out my wash when I saw Ben get into a speeder with the babies. I didn't recognize the driver. He didn't _look_ like a cabby." Her wattle inflated.  

Sabé smiled. No, Bail Organa wouldn't.

"That's Ben's cousin," she replied, pulling the door shut behind her. "He's the twins’ hold-father. He came for their blessing ceremony today."

"All the way from Coruscant? How nice." 

Sabé  hated to lie, for Linz had been nothing but kind to them, but at least only the part about Bail being Obi-Wan's cousin was strictly a falsehood. They _were_ going to have the holy woman bless the twins while they were at the temple, and Bail was going to be their hold-father.

"I'd better go," she said. "I kept them waiting long enough while I primped."

"You're wearing makeup today," Linz observed. "And oh, what lovely shoes!"

Sabé looked down and saw her silver flats peeping out from beneath the hem of her cloak. "Good for dancing," she said. "We're going to Club Deeja after the ceremony. Finally."

"I'll tell Mekken to keep an eye out for you." Linz puffed on her cigarillo, then took a step toward Sabé. "Do you need me to keep the babies?"

"We're taking them with us. They'll like the music."

"Then let me clean the apartment for you," said Linz. "I want to do something to help on the special day!"

She had no idea just how special.

"That'd be wonderful, if it's no trouble."

In their haste to get dressed up they'd left the place looking rather like a storm had passed through, and it would be nice to have their wedding night in a tidy apartment, without the previous day's dirty laundry and dishes staring them in the face when they awoke the next morning--if they slept at all.

Sabé palmed the handprint scanner to unlock the door again; she knew Obi-Wan already had his saber, and his cloak was tucked in the backpack as usual. "You're a wonderful neighbor, Linz." 

"Don't mention it, dear," the Besalisk replied, tamping out the cigarillo before she thumped into the apartment.

Sabé hurried down the three flights of steps and out to the street, where Obi-Wan was strapping the babies into the back seat while Bail leaned over the side, grinning down at them. Leia seemed particularly taken with him, her husky baby laugh audible as she flailed a hand at his chin, followed by her growl when he straightened up to approach Sabé.

"Here comes the bride."Bail took her hands and greeted her with a kiss on each cheek.

"Thank you so much for being our witness," she said. "And for everything you've done for us."

"It's a privilege. There's been so little cause for celebration these last few months. If anyone deserves joy, it's the two of you."

He glanced at Obi-Wan, who gave his head a modest shake  as he came alongside Sabé.

"Padmé would want this," Bail went on in a lower tone. "For two people she cared deeply for to find solace. For her children to have not only protectors, but parents who love them, and each other."

Sabé and Obi-Wan reached for each other's hands at the same moment, and looked at each other.

"You're radiant, Sabé," said Bail.

Obi-Wan's lips curved, the lines around his eyes deepening with the secret they shared. Was she far enough along to have a pregnancy glow? Or did Bail merely see her happiness? She wished they could share their other happy news with him, but even as complete as their trust was in him, it was safer for all if only they knew. For now.

"So is the groom," Sabé replied, looking Obi-Wan over. He wore a grey jacket with a high straight collar over a white shirt, white trousers and low black boots, and the happy flush on his face deepened at her compliment.

"Why isn't it bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the ceremony?" he asked. "Or perhaps it is, and that's why Luke felt the need to accessorize my outfit with spit-up." He swiped his fingers over a faint spot on the breast of his jacket.

"You'll find, Obi-Wan," said Bail, "that there are certain events at which women are the central figures."

"As they should be," he replied. He brought Sabé's hand to his lips, brushing them over her knuckles.

"Before we find out whether his infinite Jedi patience does, in fact, have a limit," Sabé said, hitching up her cloak to board the speeder, "we'd better get this man married."  


	12. Chapter 12

Sunset transformed Lake Varum into liquid light. The temple, situated on a small island, looked like a holy place, haloed by the sun. Like the suns of Tatooine in syzygy. Obi-Wan glanced at the woman beside him in the speeder, who watched the scene with the same expression of awe he'd witnessed then. How had he ever denied that their lives had been aligned since that moment, as surely as any celestial bodies?  

Naboo had many deities, and equally as many ways of worshiping them, so Obi-Wan had gleaned from his reading and his time on the planet. Some beliefs were universally held--funerary rites, for example-- while others--like weddings--varied from city to city, sect to sect. In Keren, where much of the economy was dependent on the lake culture, marriage came under the auspices of the goddess Varum, from whom the body of water got its name.

Obi-Wan held to no single belief system save that of the Force, for the Jedi taught that all religions contained some truth, or a facet of it. He would've been amenable to whatever sort of wedding Sabé wanted, but when she showed him the rite, he agreed there could be no more fitting ceremony for them.

Much like the Theed Funeral Temple where Qui-Gon had been cremated, the Temple of Varum consisted of a small stone tower which adjoined the larger, domed temple by way of a bridge. A holy woman met them as they disembarked Bail Organa's speeder, Sabé and Obi-Wan carrying the twins in their little white Cyrene silk outfits. The priestess wore a hooded garment not unlike a royal handmaiden's, silver velvet fading into deepest blue and pooling at her feet, which were bare.

"The Sisterhood of Requiescence welcomes you _,_ " the priestess greeted in a voice which ebbed and flowed hypnotically, like waves lapping at the shore. "I am Vestalis Maxima Naidé. May your hearts be as quiet streams so long as you are on this isle, for here flow only blessings."

Her clear eyes--grey or green or blue, Obi-Wan couldn't say which--peered deeply at him. Although he didn't have a sense of her mind touching his through the Force, he felt as though she knew exactly who he was. But his fingers did not twitch for his lightsaber, nor did his pulse quicken. The Sisterhood of Requiescence may be strangers, yet they were friends. And most aptly named.

"Marriage and children," Vestalis Naidé went on. "As life-sustaining as water. Come, partake of these sacraments."

 _Life-sustaining._ Obi-Wan had wished for death when he saw the holoscan of Anakin bending the knee to a Sith lord; on Mustafar, a part of him _had_ died, his heart burned to ash along with his brother's body. But these children, this woman, had brought Obi-Wan back to life again.

Shifting Luke to one arm, he placed his other hand at Sabé's back as they proceeded to the temple. Vestalis Naidé led them into the smaller tower, where they were greeted by the trickle of flowing water. At the center of the room, bathed in the warm sunset hues that shone between the pillared archways, stood a carved stone fountain ringed by an altar. Two more holy women, robed identically to the high priestess, awaited the party, ready to take charge of the babies so the marriage rites could begin.

Leia began to fuss the moment Sabé placed her in the stranger's arms. Obi-Wan murmured in Luke's ear before relinquishing the boy, asleep, to the other holy woman. He stroked his hand over Leia's angrily scrunched forehead; her wail instantly quieted to a yawn. When he turned back to Sabé, she quirked an eyebrow at him that asked, _Did you just do what I think you did?_ In reply, he shrugged. She shook her head, but her lips pursed together against what he knew to be a laugh. Not strictly an emergency situation, a wedding ceremony nevertheless seemed an important enough occasion to ensure there would be no interruption from crying babies.

In the next moment _he_ was the one blinking back tears as Sabé reached up with both hands to lower her hood and Bail drew the heavy cloak from her shoulders to reveal her wedding gown. Her beauty pierced him. Clothed in white, like his dreams, though unlike anything he could have imagined. He thought of the first time he'd seen her, not wearing the painted mask of Queen Amidala, but the face of the handmaiden, Sabé, whose loveliness had been enhanced by simpler garb.

He'd never seen her in white. Apart from the orange flight suit she'd had on at the funeral, she'd dressed primarily in subdued mourning colors. Her upswept hair looked even darker by contrast, the silver and pearls and crystals of her headpiece nestled against it like constellations. She'd joked about towering half-moons of feathers, but nothing could suit her more perfectly than this simple elegance. It must be precious, an heirloom perhaps, for he knew her family had been working class. His eyes swept down the dangling beadwork to her dress--her mother's--which she'd worked on painstakingly for weeks. Obi-Wan didn't know what it had looked like originally, but he thought he recognized Sabé's touch in the more practical aspects of it. He smiled at the leggings below the hem, a little surprised she wasn't wearing her favorite low boots. There wasn't a doubt in his mind she had her little blaster secreted away in one of the gown’s folds. Just as beneath his jacket, he'd clipped his lightsaber to his belt for the first time since arriving on Keren. He hadn't felt complete without it, and he wanted to come to Sabé a whole man today.

His heart throbbed as he considered the layers of the dress, the belted overlay…He didn't like to presume, yet he couldn't help but notice a resemblance to a Jedi's robes. It would be completely in her character to honor him in such a way. He was humbled.

Sabé could have worn her mother's wedding dress to marry any other man. But she wore it for him.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was to him, but it wasn't the time for him to speak. Even if it had been, he wasn't sure he could have mustered a voice.

Vestalis Naidé stood before them and said, "You have come here, bride and groom, two streams whose courses have met and will flow forward together as one. It is well to look back to the source from whence you began."

This was their cue to bring out the holopics they'd brought of their departed ancestors. Obi-Wan had no knowledge of his birth family, which Sabé found unsettling and sad, though he knew no differently. He wanted to participate in this part of the ceremony, so on the altar beside the images of her mother and father and grandparents, he placed one of Qui-Gon. _It must be like losing a father_ , Sabé had said to him that night on the palace balcony, her simple words of empathy opening up the connection between them. How fitting, how _right_ to honor his Master here. Whatever Yoda said about Obi-Wan disappointing Qui-Gon, however much it stung, he knew it not to be true. As he lit a stick of incense on the altar, he felt Qui-Gon's presence as he hadn't since the life force receded from beneath the fingertips on his cheek.

 _Thank you for your teachings._ Obi-Wan spoke silently from that place that had been silent since his knighthood, the old Master and Padawan bond that had been severed by the red saberstaff blade. He didn't apologize for being so slow to learn the lessons, for today was a day for gratitude, not regret.

After several moments' contemplation, Vestalis Naidé instructed them to dip the burning ends of the incense into the trickle of the fountain to put out the flame. "…as the ashes of your ancestors were released into river so that they might flow eternally as part of the planet's life force."

Perhaps that was why Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's presence so strongly: he'd been cremated on Naboo, his remains scattered into the Solleu River. During the speeder ride, Sabé, too, had told him about sensing her mother in that unexpected cactus bloom. Whatever it meant, as the smoke swirled from the extinguished ends of the incense, curling around them, he thanked the Force for cradling them both in love today.

"In death," Vestalis Naidé intoned, "your ancestors were made pure, first by fire, then by water. Wash now, cleansing yourselves of the past, that you may enter pure into your future."

Obi-Wan held his hands beneath the flowing water of the fountain, scrubbing off the blood and dirt of battlefields unknowingly fought in service of the Emperor…the ash of Mustafar…the dust of centuries' worth of tradition that obscured his vision. He would teach the right lessons this time, fight the right war, for these children, with this woman at his side.

"Cleansed of the past," said the high priestess, "invoke the goddess' blessing on your future."

The women holding the sleeping babies approached. At Vestalis Naidé's nod, Sabé cupped a little water in her hands and let it trickle over Leia's forehead. She scowled in her sleep and squirmed in the priestess' arms, but she didn't fully wake as the holy woman spoke the traditional blessing:

"May the blessings of Varum

Fall upon you like nourishing rain,

That you may grow strong in body,

Sound of mind,

Serene of spirit."

She repeated the blessing as Obi-Wan poured the holy water over Luke. When they joined the Rebellion on Dantooine, would there be anyone to perform this blessing, or one like it, on their son or daughter? A sniffle from the sister who held the infant boy drew Obi-Wan's gaze up to her face, streaked with moisture, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I feel as though I'm holding hope in my arms," she choked out.

Glancing at Sabé, Obi-Wan replied, "We feel it, too."

The preliminary ceremonies complete, the three Sisters of Requiescence directed Bail and the twins across the bridge to the temple proper, giving Obi-Wan and Sabé time to prepare themselves for the marriage rite in private.

"Pray together," Vestalis Naidé suggested, "or meditate. Whenever you're ready, we shall begin."

Alone with his bride, Obi-Wan could contemplate only her.

"It appears you're quite the talented seamstress," he said. Hardly the compliment she deserved, but Sabé's nose scrunched in amusement.

"A surprise worth waiting for, then?"

"Well worth." Obi-Wan took her hands in his. "You wore white in my dreams, but you're even more…" Beautiful? Lovely? "My vocabulary falls woefully short of describing you."

"I like that description." Sabé brought their joined hands up to her heart, drawing him closer. "This isn't a dream. You're very much awake."

The dangling ends of her headdress fell over his hands. He disentangled one from Sabé's to trail a finger over the crystal and pearl beadwork, but he soon abandoned that that to cradle her jaw, his palm pressed to her warm, flushed cheek. He tilted his head, instinct prompting him to kiss her, but before his mouth touched hers he drew back.

"Is it bad luck to kiss the bride before the wedding?" he asked.

"I thought you didn't believe in luck?"

Sabé closed the space between them, her lips soft upon his, and sweet. The kiss didn't last long, but they lingered together afterward, foreheads together, fingers entwined.

"Do you want to meditate?" she asked, a whisper.  

"That would probably be wise. The moment I saw you everything else left my head. Including the vows."

They came back to him quickly enough after a few moments' kneeling on the stone floor with Sabé, clearing his mind of all but the dribble of the fountain, the lapping of the lake at the shoreline. When he had mentally rehearsed the ceremony, he stood and offered a hand to Sabé.

"Ready, my love?"

"For thirteen years," she answered with a smile, and placed her hand in his.

The sun was a glowing sliver over Lake Varum as they crossed the bridge to the temple proper, and when they entered the antechamber they looked up through the opening at the top of the domed roof to see the first stars coming out in the darker portion of sky high above, the lights of ships moving between them. At the doorway to the inner sanctum, Obi-Wan dropped Sabé's hand and bent to remove his low boots and socks, while she stepped out of her silver shoes.

Joining hands again, they proceeded inward to the top of a stone staircase which descended into a pool where Vestalis Naidé stood, robes sodden to her calves, holding a chalice. To the side of the pool stood Bail, looking up at them with his solemn smile. He held something in his hands, which Obi-Wan only realized was a camera when he raised it to take a picture. Luke and Leia still slept soundly in the priestess' arms.

"Who are this woman and man?" Vestalis Naidé began the marriage ceremony. "And why have they come?"

"I am Sabé Al'Lur," she said in a clear, steady voice that resonated through the stone room. "I've come to take the Seven Steps and become this man's wife."

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi." He spoke his true name without fear for the first time in months, for he would not make a solemn vow before a deity, to _her_ , under a false one. "I have come to take the Seven Steps and become this woman's husband."

At the priestess' nod, they turned toward one another.

"Obi-Wan," said Sabé, "I pledge to fill your heart with peace."

She already had done, every day since he saw her in Theed. He spoke the vow back to her, hoping with all that was in him that he could give that gift back to her in return.

"This is your first step," said Vestalis Naidé.

Together, they stepped down, then faced each other again.

"Sabé," Obi-Wan began this time, "I pledge to seek knowledge with you."

She repeated the pledge to him, and again, Obi-Wan thought how this already was a vital part of their relationship: from her rather useless book on infant care, to his poring over the history of Keren, and meditating together…they had looked outside themselves, and most importantly, to each other, for the right path.

"This is your second step," the holy woman said, and they moved down again.

"I pledge to dwell in serenity with you…"

"I pledge to keep my spirit in harmony with yours..."

"I pledge to lead our children along this path of peace, knowledge, serenity, and harmony…"

"I pledge to honor you in my every word and action…"

They alternated vows, descended the temple steps together. "This is your third step…your fourth…your fifth…your sixth."

The path was one he'd walked alongside his brothers and sisters of the Jedi Order. They were gone now, but the Code remained. All that would change would be that he would follow it with Sabé.

"I pledge to love you," they spoke the final vow in unison, "even unto death. This is our seventh step."

It brought them into the water with Vestalis Naidé. To Obi-Wan's surprise, it was warm, despite the chilly autumn evening air.

"You have taken the Seven Steps," she said.

Obi-Wan looked at Sabé, saw a wide grin that matched the one he felt stretching across his face.

"You have become his," the priestess went on. _His wife._ "You have become hers." _Her husband._

"Do not go from her," Vestalis Naidé admonished. He never would, only as their work for the Rebellion required, temporarily. "Do not go from him. You are partners, you are one. His sorrow and joy are yours to share, as you will share in hers."  

Obi-Wan's heart constricted at the thought of Sabé ever enduring sorrow on his account, but he also couldn't conceive of his life being sorrowful so long as she was in it.

The wide sleeve of the priestess' robe fell back as she extended her thin arm, offering  the chalice to Sabé. Releasing Obi-Wan's hand, she stooped to fill it from the pool, then offered it to him.

"Drink deeper of her, and never thirst for love."

Obi-Wan's fingers brushed hers as he took the cup, drained it, then bent to refill it again.

"Drink deeper of him, and never thirst for love."

Their fingers touched again as he gave it to Sabé. When she had drunk, they leaned together to fill it for a third time.

"Drink deeper of the divinity of holy union."

Sabé drank half the water, then Obi-Wan put his lips on the place where hers had been, a trace of her lip stain on the cup, and drank the rest. He returned the chalice to Vestalis Naidé, and it seemed to disappear into her robes as she clasped her hands before her, the wide sleeves falling over them.

“You give, that he may receive. You give, that she may receive. Love, freely given and willingly received, has no beginning, and no end. Love is a circle, unbroken. Do you have rings to be given and received, to symbolize your eternal pledge?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "We do."

He watched Sabé's brows draw together, then dart upward on her forehead, eyes round beneath them, when he delved into his pocket for a wedding band. _Where did you get that?_ He all but heard her question. Obi-Wan grinned; she'd had her wedding surprises, so it was only fair he had his. He was delighted to be able to surprise her, to finally have something to offer her and, as he slipped the gleaming black titanium with copper inlay onto her fourth finger, that it fit her. Later, he would enjoy telling her all about it.

For now, he said, "May this ring remind you of my love, given freely, without beginning or end."

"I receive your ring as I receive your love," Sabé replied, her voice a little choked.

Obi-Wan reached into his pocket a second time and brought out her ring's mate, an exact match to hers, but wider, and placed it in her palm to give to him. Although the rings were not a surprise to him, he nevertheless felt his breath catch as the cool metal band encircled his finger. Never in his life had he worn jewelry of any kind, and the physical sensation of a ring was a new one. Not that he disliked it, but it would take some getting used to. The texture of the metal, at least, was very familiar to him.

"May this ring remind you of my love," Sabé said, "given freely, without beginning or end."

He would never get used to her speaking words of love to him. Never wanted to, for that would mean he took it for granted.

"I receive your ring as I receive your love," he repeated.

"Now kiss your husband, and receive his kiss," said Vestalis Naidé. "Kiss your wife, and receive her kiss."

 _Husband and wife_ . Obi-Wan was still processing that the ceremony was complete, that he was a _married man,_ when the water sloshed around his ankles as Sabé closed the space between them, arms thrown around his neck and mouth pressed to his. Joy welled up in him as he caught her tight around the waist, laughter bubbling out and mingling with hers. She arched onto the balls of her feet and he lifted her off the floor of the pool. A thought flitted through his mind that they were in a holy place, that the holy women were watching and that Bail Organa stood witness to this unbridled affection, too, and perhaps Obi-Wan ought to show a little more solemnity and restraint. But he'd just made a sacred vow to share in Sabé's joy, and to drink deeper of her love.

And so he drank.

~*~

“You’re drinking for two now,” Sabé told Obi-Wan under her breath as Bail strode away, Leia in his arms, to chat with Linz’s cousin Mekken, who sat on a barstool holding Luke and tickling his chin with one of his four hands.

“I am indeed,” he replied, tilting the last of his Alderaanian ruge liqueur to his lips and savoring the silky, exotic taste of it on his tongue.

Thankfully they’d all eaten dinner when they’d arrived at Club Deeja, for he had a feeling Bail was going to keep the drinks coming, and it wouldn’t do to drink on an empty stomach. Still, Obi-Wan wondered whether he should pace himself. Then he decided that the day of his wedding was a terrible day for moderation and discarded the idea.  

An expectant mother, of course, couldn’t indulge. One small glass wouldn't hurt, but she planned to wait for the bottle of Daruvvian champagne that awaited them in the 'fridge back home.

“Never fear,” he said with a raised eyebrow, “the Jedi have an uncanny knack for sleights of hand.”

As he said it, her full glass of liqueur was now cupped in his hand, his empty one in hers.

One eyebrow arched over her soft chuckle. “You sly man.”

“I’ll be a hit at the kids’ birthday parties.”

Sabé laughed again, low and throaty. But it was true: once they were on Dantooine, he wouldn’t have to hide the Force from anyone again. A thrill of anticipation shivered through him.

“Have I ever told you how I adore your laugh, my wife?”

 _My wife_. The phrase bloomed warm inside his chest just as a smile did on Sabé’s face.

“No,” she said, drawing out the word. “Tell me.”

The beautiful lilt in her tone made Obi-Wan’s grin broaden because he knew he’d been the one to cause it. He wanted to be responsible for a lifetime of happy notes in her voice, and he added that to his ever-growing list of things he wished to do for her.

“The first time I heard you laugh was on Padmé’s starship.”

Realization lit her face. “When the syzygy happened.”

“And I nearly missed seeing the alignment of Tatooine’s suns,” he confessed, “because I couldn’t take my eyes off you. It was as though—as though you’d suddenly appeared before me. Not a queen. Certainly not a child. For a moment you were…yourself. And I was entranced.”

A lovely flush colored her cheeks. “Why have you never told me this?”

“Because it wasn’t supposed to happen.” He leaned down, bringing his lips close to hers, and breathed, “Not to me, anyhow.”

“How could you ever have thought such a thing?” she murmured into his mouth.

“I had a lot to learn.”

As their lips met, holographic images began to burst to life one by one around them and the other patrons on the dance floor, prematurely ending the kiss as they pulled apart to gaze in wonder at the flickering blue-white forms. The performance was about to begin.

Club Deeja had one of the most advanced sound and image systems on Naboo, boasting tiny, nearly invisible speakers dangling from the dark ceiling’s nanowires over each performer’s life-sized hologram. The idea was that a concertgoer could walk from one singer to the next and hear individual voices, or stand in the center or at a distance and hear everyone. The effect was intimate and immersive, making the audience members feel as though they stood among the performers. Sabé said she hadn’t attended a concert with this setup since the club had made the upgrades a few years ago.

One musician plucked a single note on her mandolin, and the others began to tune their instruments to it. Some of the crowd gathered on the outskirts of the dance floor to watch, while others walked by the holograms to get a closer look at the performers and their instruments.

“Why does Melodic Order not perform in person?” asked Obi-Wan, enjoying the feeling of having his arm around Sabé, and hers around him, in front of strangers and old friends, as though nothing were more natural.

“They play in the traditional musical style of Alderaan and have taken a vow to remain cloistered,” replied Sabé. “They only associate with Alderaanians so as not to allow outside influence in their music.”

“But they live here on Naboo?”

Sabé shrugged. “It’s their home.”

“Seems complicated.”

“Whose life isn’t?”

“I can’t think of one,” he acknowledged with a smile. “I can, however, think of a number of ways in which the cloistered life limits one's human experience. I'm grateful to have had my horizons broadened. Here, let me get you some water.”

After finishing the rest of her liqueur, he took both glasses to the bar, passing Bail, who was cooing into Leia’s forehead as he carried her closer to the band. Sabé accompanied him while he circled the room with the baby, peering into the holographic singers’ faces or trying to figure out what sorts of traditional wooden and metal instruments were slung over their shoulders or waiting next to them on floor stands.

“Congratulations, Ben,” said Mekken. He shifted on the barstool, which groaned under his weight. Luke, in one of his arms, lay staring up with wide eyes into the huge Besalisk’s face as though he didn’t dare move. “The blessing day of children is a joyful one.”

“It is,” agreed Obi-Wan. Mekken looked so like Dex that he couldn’t help but wonder what his old friend would think of the unexpectedly happy turn his life had taken. “Sabé was so pleased you came early to meet us here.”

He waved the thanks away with another hand, which Luke’s blue eyes followed as though it were some bizarre fingered butterfly.

“It won’t get rowdy until later,” the bouncer said, “but I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet our little Sabé’s husband and children.”

Obi-Wan chuckled at the diminutive descriptor, but then again he supposed everyone would appear little to a Besalisk. He watched Sabé glide across the room with Bail and Leia, the dark crown of her hair and low braids shining under the colorful club lights. She’d taken off her bridal cap in the speeder on the way here, stowing it in their pack with the complaint that it was giving her a headache. A wise move, considering everyone they knew in Keren thought they were already married; it wouldn’t do to show up in outright bridal finery.

“So, what sort of work do you do, Ben?” asked Mekken. Luke was beginning to fuss, and the Besalisk stood to rock him. Obi-Wan could see why Sabé liked him, for he had a kind and gentle manner. Though he couldn’t quite picture the bouncer tossing a drunkard out of the club, he had no doubt he was more than capable of it.

“Oh, I’m in security,” said Obi-Wan. “Like Sabé.”

“And her dad, rest his soul. You met through work?”

He nodded. It wasn’t far from the truth. “I wish I could’ve known her father. And her mother.”

“They watch over you,” said Mekken with a sage nod of his head, closing his reptilian eyes for a moment. “All our people do.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Obi-Wan leaned against the bar, gazing out at the ghost-like images of the band warming up. In his memory he saw Qui-Gon again, sunlight dappling his skin as he lay contentedly in the grass of the Sacred Place as though battle were the farthest thing from his mind in that moment.

But another image burned that one away like a paper party favor: Anakin, cloaked in black with darkness trailing him as he stalked through smoke-filled halls, seething, searching—

“Here’s your water,” called the bartender, another Besalisk, who’d slid Sabé’s glass back to him and was already pouring another drink while mixing two cocktails in stainless steel shakers.

“Oh. Thanks.” Obi-Wan turned distractedly, blinking as he tried to hold onto what he’d just seen. Of course, the dreams of Anakin hadn’t left him. Grief and regret still tried to drown him in their hopelessness. Perhaps this was simply guilt intruding on this happiest of days, one that Anakin had never enjoyed.

“And your friend over there said to give you this,” the bartender added, thrusting another ruge liqueur at him.

Obi-Wan took it and downed it in one go. He exhaled briskly and shook his head while Mekken laughed, impressed, his wattle inflating.

Startled by the motion, Luke wailed, and Mekken excused himself to walk with him among the holograms, stopping to admire Leia and talk with Bail.

Sabé joined Obi-Wan, taking her water from him and eyeing the empty glass on the bar. Obi-Wan leaned into her and grasped her about the waist, making her giggle as she sloshed her water onto them both.

“Are you choosing to be drunk, husband?” she teased.

Hearing Sabé call him _husband_ roused all his baser instincts, and he clutched her tighter against him so that she could feel it. Her gasp of pleasure and subtle roll of her hips into him made his eyes flutter closed. When he opened them, he decided to make it as difficult for her, and he whispered, “All the better for you to take advantage of me later.”

“Oh, I intend to,” she replied with a leer, raking one hand through his hair and grasping the back of his neck, “drunk or not.”

“I don’t know how I’ll wait until we get home,” he growled into her ear. “You know, there’s a ‘fresher right through that door.”

To show her the door in question, he turned her body so that she was in front of him, his need pressing against her from behind as he continued speaking quietly. “I could be of service to you there.”

“No one would ever notice we were gone,” she breathed.

“However,” he murmured, “I am nothing if not an honorable man.” He kissed her earlobe. “I intend to carry you over the threshold of our home. Then—” His tongue darted out to lick it. “—and only then will I consummate our marriage.”

“You,” said Sabé, turning to face him again, “are a tease.”

“A proper husband, you mean.”

She captured his mouth with hers and kissed him deeply, and the heady sensation of fathomless love coupled with throbbing desire and strong liqueur threatened to topple him. He turned her again so that her back was against the bartop, and he steadied himself by gripping the edges of it, not quite caring who saw him kissing his wife.

Sabé was his _wife_. He had every right to kiss her.

But respect for her dignity dictated that he mustn’t get carried away. He reluctantly pulled away, promising her, after one more kiss, “You may ravish me later.”

Her laughter was punctuated by a playful swat at his chest and the sweet strumming of the band’s mandolin player, who’d just begun the first song.

“My love, this is our wedding celebration,” he reminded her with a raised eyebrow. “We can’t duck out early, no matter how much you may want to.”

“How much _I_ may—”

“Come, now,” he interrupted. “You can add teaching me to dance to the innumerable things you’ve already taught me.”

He decided to ignore how he’d slurred the word _innumerable_ as Sabé, setting down her glass and laughing in mock indignation, chased him onto the dance floor.

Behind Leia, a singer with a breathy, wistful voice sang the first words of the ballad about a small village preparing for harvest at the new moon. Bail turned so she could see, and her tiny fingers reached out to try to grab the ethereal image. Another singer nearby sweetly sang the next lines, and Bail carried her to that one. Leia laughed, flapping her arms in delight.

A third performer, in a powerful, whooping style, sang next, startling Luke, who began to cry in earnest. Mekken had just calmed him down and had to quickly hurry away from the loud voice, his heavy footsteps thumping across the dance floor as he went.

Obi-Wan took Sabé in his arms.

“It’s a simple two-step,” she said. “Just follow me.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips and promised, “Anywhere.”

All seven of the band’s women sang in unison now, with straight, unwavering tones, standing in an outward facing circle and underscored simply by the first singer’s mandolin and an accordion played by someone who hadn’t had a solo yet. Their voices resonated throughout the space, filling every corner and making Obi-Wan’s chest vibrate.

At this slow pace, following Sabé was easy enough: step-together, forward-together, step-together, forward-together. Her eyes, never straying from his, shimmered under the multicolored lights, and her skin glowed pale and perfect. A bright blue-white light washed out all color for a split second, and he realized they’d passed directly through one of the holograms as though it were a ghost. He shivered, feeling inexplicably cold.

“Tell me about our rings,” said Sabé.

“Ah, yes." Obi-Wan leapt onto the topic with a waggle of his eyebrows. “While you were busy altering your lovely and perfect gown, I was busy with our rings.”

“So you weren’t reading out there in the living room after all?”

He shook his head and felt his chest puff with pride. He couldn’t be bothered that this emotion was the antithesis of everything he’d learned at the Jedi Temple, for it was his wife who held him in such high regard. He couldn’t reject her admiration any more than he could wipe the foolish grin from his face.  

“So you _can_ keep a secret,” she smiled. “Now tell me everything.”

He explained how he’d used the Force to remove some of the black titanium from his lightsaber’s grip and form it into two rings, using one of Sabé’s old ones as a guide for sizing hers. She’d never even noticed he’d borrowed it from the small wooden jewelry box she kept on her dresser, nor that he’d returned it when he’d finished their wedding bands two days ago.

Sabé watched him as he spoke, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth and back again, and he recognized that look of longing, so open and voluptuous and _his_ , his alone.

He began to wonder if they had any hope of avoiding that ‘fresher tonight after all.

“They’re perfect,” she said as she kissed each cheek, the corners of his mouth, and finally full on his lips. “Thank you.” Another kiss. “Thank you.”

“They were easier to craft than my lightsaber,” he managed as he kissed her back fervently. They’d stopped dancing some time ago and merely stood in each other’s arms while the voices soared and surged around them.

“Yet another profession to fall back on,” she laughed. “A man of many talents, you are.”

“Well, my wife sets a high standard.”

“She sounds perfect for you.”

“Oh, she is,” he said with feeling. “She truly is.”

A shadow blocked the spinning lights as Bail drew closer. “May I cut in?”

“Of course.”

Obi-Wan held out his arms for Leia, then went to perch on a stool next to Mekken at the perimeter of the dance floor. He reached over to stroke the baby boy’s cheek and was gratified by another of Luke’s seemingly inexhaustible smiles.

He returned his gaze to Sabé to watch her dancing and chatting with Bail in the center of the crowd. Humans and other beings of all shapes and sizes, even a few children, glided through the spectrer-like holograms, the blue-white illuminating them blindingly, making them appear as ghosts, too, for a moment, until they passed again into the prism of color or the darkness of shadow. The images were beautiful and unnerving. Obi-Wan kept his eyes on Sabé as though she might disappear, flickering away like a hologram or dissipating like smoke, if he looked away for too long.

Seeing Bail leading Sabé around the room sparked a memory from the transport they’d shared on the way to Keren with the children. Obi-Wan had seen an advertisement for Club Deeja and asked Sabé about it, and he’d imagined her dancing with another man here, not even daring to allow himself the luxury of jealousy.

In his wildest dreams he’d never imagined that one day she’d dance with him, much less that she’d do so as his wife.

The rhythmic jangling of a tambourine heralded the beginning of a new tune. It beat as though in ritual sanction of his claim, just before another singer’s ethereal voice wound through the space like a meandering stream. Obi-Wan stood up, crossed the dance floor, and wordlessly handed Leia back to Bail, taking his wife in his arms once again, for that was where she belonged, as he belonged in hers.

Giving up all pretense of proper dancing this time, they swayed back and forth together, pressing kisses to each other’s faces and lips and fingers, murmuring words of love, making plans about their new life on Dantooine.

They’d already decided to adopt Luke and Leia. With all the children orphaned by the galaxy’s conflicts, two more “no ones” arriving on the Rebel base shouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Obi-Wan and Sabé would have to construct a credible backstory for their romance, quick marriage, and acquisition of the twins--especially in light of her pregnancy, which they wouldn't be able to keep secret for long. Even if the Rebellion couldn’t know who Luke and Leia really were, they would, of course, know the spy Sabé Al’Lur, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi general.

It seemed impossible that only a few months ago the name Kenobi meant nothing more than an enemy of the Empire. Now Kenobi meant not only Jedi, but husband and father.

Sabé and the children could have his name, if they wanted it.

But that was a conversation for another day. Tonight, there would be dancing.

~*~

The glow of streetlights turned the inky night sky soft and hazy when Bail dropped them off at their apartment late that evening. He’d offered them a room in the hotel where he was staying, even suggested that he could take the kids for the night; but they’d insisted that they shouldn’t draw more attention to the day than they already had. Bail had business with Queen Apailana the next morning, and he’d promised them he would drop in for a quick goodbye before he departed for Theed.

They’d tucked the twins into the hoverpram they'd brought along in Bail's speeder just in case they needed it at the temple or Club Deeja, and now walked hand-in-hand across the duracrete toward the apartment complex’s outer stairs, nudging the pram along ahead of them. Obi-Wan was glad for it now, for after so many ruge liqueurs he felt a little unsteady on his feet. Though Sabé’s arm was hooked through his, he suspected she was in no small part helping him maintain his balance.

The hollow, ethereal sound of flutes in the air made Obi-Wan look up to see dozens of winged moon shadowmoths flitting in and out of the lamplight. Someone must have brought some from Coruscant;  he hadn’t heard that sound since the last time he’d been there. They made a sweet and lonely sound, out of tune and yet perfectly harmonized, as they darted from light to shadow and back again. As he watched, a hawk-bat swooped into the light and snatched one of the ghostlike creatures out of the air. A tiny emptiness wrenched Obi-Wan’s chest as the moth died.

“We’ve really been isolated, haven’t we?” he remarked. “This is the first time we’ve been outside after dark since we arrived.”

Sabé laughed. “You’re right. Funny, I haven’t missed it.”

“Nor have I.”

Still holding hands, they slowly climbed the stairs, following the dim blue light that emanated from beneath the hoverpram in front of them. Luke and Leia had fallen asleep in the speeder and only briefly stirred when transferred to the pram. Perhaps, if they were lucky, the babies would remain asleep while their parents celebrated their wedding night, if only for a few minutes.

 _Parents_. Obi-Wan’s shift in thought had happened so naturally he hadn’t noticed. The dead Anakin still haunted his dreams, grasping and screaming for the children that had been taken from him…but at some point Obi-Wan’s guilt had departed, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. Often his nightmares ended victorious, his blood singing as he stood over Anakin’s lifeless form, not on Mustafar but elsewhere, anywhere. Even here. He would awaken every time with the disconcerted feeling that all the fratricide in the world would never keep his little family safe.

But tonight, thank the stars, his blood sang for better reasons. His wife’s hand pressed warm into his, and she looked up at him with love and longing glimmering in her dark eyes. While they’d danced, her hair had come undone in places, the damp tendrils framing her face and clinging to the curve of her graceful neck. He leaned over to kiss it, grateful to have the handrail of the stairs to hold onto for balance. She turned into him so that her lips met his briefly, tantalizingly, and they had to scurry to catch up to the pram that had continued to advance upward along the stairway until at last they reached the door to her apartment.

“Open up, pedunky,” Sabé said as she released the locks.

Pushing the pram ahead of them, they stepped inside.

Something was wrong.

The sparring dummy stood, dark and tall, in the center of the dining room. Then it raised an arm—but the dummy had no arms, Obi-Wan thought through a slow fog—and with fingers rigid against its gleaming black forehead, it saluted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Obi-Wan said, happiness is fleeting. You probably didn't think it would be so fleeting, though...we have a bit of the Dark Side in us. ;) 
> 
> While you wait to see how this cliffhanger turns out, a couple of notes about this chapter: 
> 
> The Sisterhood of Requiescence is our own invention, though Naboo does have a number of religious orders. We adapted the Blessing of Children from an Irish infant blessing, and the Rite of the Seven Steps is based on a [Manataka ceremony](https://www.manataka.org/page25.html). Considering this is a Rey origin story, and Obi-Wan's voice whispers, "These are your first steps," in The Force Awakens, we couldn't resist including the imagery of steps in a Jedi wedding. 
> 
> Finally, if you'd like to forget about the ominous ending, re-read the Club Deeja scene while listening to our inspiration for Melodic Order: [Kylä Vuotti Uutta Kuuta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9XhWt7ts08), by the Finnish folk band, Värttinä.
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you who have read, commented, and left kudos. Each and every one means so much to us, and we're thrilled other people are enjoying our take on this pairing as much as we have writing it. Five chapters to go! Update on Sunday as usual. And in the meantime: Happy Rogue One premiere!


	13. Chapter 13

Obi-Wan shook off his drunkenness as easily, Sabé thought, as dropping a cloak. He stepped in front of the pram and drew his lightsaber, the blue glow revealing a black-clad man whose face was concealed by a metallic mask. Sabé pulled her blaster from the folds of her gown and pointed it at the intruder.

The dark figure raised a hand, and the weapon flew from her grip, its first and only shot blasting the back wall above the crib. A shallow crater dented the plaster, black singed marks fanning out around it like rays of a dark star.

Luke and Leia woke with the noise and immediately started screaming. "Oi!" came the muted bellow of the neighbor who shared that wall, beating his fist against it. "Kriffing keep it down in there!"

_A Force user_ , Sabé thought in the split second that she turned toward the children to snatch them up. A Sith? Palpatine's new apprentice?

Before she had a moment to let that thought take root, or even to move a step, Obi-Wan shouted to her. "Take the children and run!"

But it was as though the air itself grasped her in a tight fist. Frozen, she couldn't move a limb. She could barely breathe. Panic stabbed her chest as she rolled her eyes toward the stranger. He held out a black-gloved hand toward her, keeping her immobile, then flicked a finger to slam the apartment door shut behind her. She heard the locks engage, followed by the wrenching sound of metal bending, and a cold, modulated chuckle rasped through the stranger's mask.

"I thought they called you the Queen of Peace."

Without giving her time to process his greeting, the man lifted her blaster in his other hand. As she watched, it seemed to melt around his fingers. He tossed it aside and sent it clattering across the floor, beneath the table, to land, smoking, at her feet.

Obi-Wan raised his saber to put an end to this...but the man tightened his hold around Sabé's throat. Obi-Wan's eyes flashed to hers; he _knew_. For a brief, terrible moment she could not breathe, her heart pounding like an ash-rabbit's until Obi-Wan, jaw clenched and eyes flashing, lowered his saber and turned back to face the intruder.

At once sweet air flooded her lungs again, though she still could not move a muscle.

"You are mistaken about this woman's identity," said Obi-Wan, his voice oddly calm, the fingers of one hand releasing his saber to make a gesture she hadn't seen before. "You will release her and allow us to leave unharmed."

The man had called her the Queen of Peace, just as Obi-Wan had this morning before the wedding. Suddenly she understood: this stranger thought she was Padmé.

Sabé's breath stuttered again, though the invisible grip hadn't tightened around her throat. What did he want? To kidnap her? To kidnap the children? If the tabloids wouldn't pay a ransom, the Naberrie family might. Why hadn't she and Obi-Wan better heeded Linz's warning about the stranger lurking in the shadows?

Where _was_ Linz? Clearly, the man had done something to her to get in here. They should have heard her thumping upstairs the instant the blaster fired, but there had only been the neighbor behind them. Mouth dry, Sabé couldn't speak to ask. The dishes were still piled in the sink, so Linz hadn't managed to tidy the flat as she'd intended. Sabé glanced at the figurine of the Goddess of Safety on the shelf by the door and sent up a silent prayer for their friend's well-being. And their own. Then she scanned the black figure for the telltale bulge of a weapon. She saw nothing amidst his hodgepodge of clothing, a scarecrow's ensemble, but that didn't mean he was unarmed. Nevertheless, following protocol steadied her erratic pulse.

The mask turned toward Obi-Wan. "I believe you'll find I'm no longer as weak-minded as you knew me to be, _General Kenobi,_ " his voice crackled beneath the cries of the children.

Gloved hands went up, a faint _click_ releasing the helmet's latch. Sabé's eyes flicked between Obi-Wan and the stranger as he revealed his face. Human, a dozen or so years older than Obi-Wan, fewer perhaps, difficult to say because he was so weathered, sandy hair thinning. His mouth was thin, too, hooded icy blue eyes narrowed. Something about him seemed familiar, but before she could place him, recognition flickered across Obi-Wan's tensed features.

"You're the man we saw in the park. And in Theed. The-"

"The madman?" Pale eyebrows went up, as did one corner of his mouth. Taunting. But Obi-Wan did not rise to it.

"The war veteran," he replied. "Corellian? You had a bloodstripe. You...attended the funeral."

What in blazes was Obi-Wan talking about?

"The _farce_ ," the Corellian growled. "And I was right, wasn't I?" His cold eyes snapped back to Sabé, moisture brightening them as though the sight of her melted a layer of the ice, and when he spoke again it was in a quavering voice. "Queen Amidala stands before me. She is not dead." With a nod of his sharp chin at the ruined blaster at her feet, he held up his hands, palms open. "I have no intention of changing that."

Sabé exhaled, relieved-but only slightly as he still had not released her from the hold. She'd never felt more helpless, uninjured yet unable to move a muscle to go to the children who so desperately needed comfort. Her body strained with the effort of fighting against it, but she might as well have tried to punch a hole in a slab of duracrete.

Obi-Wan's lightsaber hissed as he disengaged it.

"Then what do you want?" he said, and the living room lamp came on. One of them had used the Force.

The Corellian smiled. "That's rather more to the point than I expected from the famed _Negotiator._ I thought you'd at least offer me a drink first."

"We have baby formula. Will that suffice?"

The man chuckled again, the resonant sound reverberating through the small space. "All right. We will proceed without the niceties. Although I did notice a fine Daruvvian champagne in your refrigeration unit."

A splurge at the market, intended for their wedding night. Tonight. Sabé's skin crawled at the thought of the stranger poking through their belongings. She glanced to the kitchen again, attempting to master her fear by scanning for a weapon secreted there, but her range of motion was too limited.

"But as you wish. It doesn't appear you've any clean dishes, anyway." The statement was punctuated by the thunk of his crude mask on the table. His eyes blinked rapidly as he waited for a particularly loud wail from Leia to crest and fall. Then he continued.

"There's a void, Obi-Wan, and we can fill it. I came here to thank you. And to help you."

"Thank me? For what?"

The Corellian locked eyes with Obi-Wan as though he wished him to understand something of the deepest importance. "You freed me from my pain," he whispered with hands out, palms up. He raised his chin and went on, eyes glittering. "My madness was thrust upon me. But you restored me to balance and peace."

_If this man is balanced_ , thought Sabé, _I'm a b'karr's nephew_.

As though he'd read her mind, Obi-Wan glanced at her. Luke wailed. Obi-Wan's lips pressed together until the boy took a breath and thumped the bed of the pram with his little fists, hiccuping through his cries.

"The only thanks I require," Obi-Wan said quietly, "are the release of my wife, and your allowing us to leave without incident. I cannot but feel threatened when I find a stranger in our home."

"So Queen Amidala _is_ your wife," said the intruder, rocking back on his heels with hands clasped gently before him as though this were most curious news. "I wasn't certain a Besalisk could be relied upon for accurate information."

_Linz_. Sabé's heart thudded harder. Suddenly the silence in the apartment above theirs seemed much more sinister.

The man went on: "You've learned quickly that the black and white rigidity of the Jedi Order did no one any favors. Good. I won't have to teach you as much as I anticipated."

A twitch of Obi-Wan's eye was the only indication that this statement rattled him at all. "Break the hold over my wife, and then we'll talk."

"Ah, but that I cannot do." A smile lit the intruder's face, which might have made him appear years younger if not for his ruined teeth. "Not until you've seen the light, as it were."

Now both babies shrieked together, a long wail that prevented further speech for several long heartbeats.

"You're frightening the children," said Obi-Wan during the next relative lull. "How can you expect me to listen to you when my children are crying?"

"Right you are."

The intruder made as though to step around the table toward the pram. Obi-Wan's saber hissed to life at once.

" _Do not touch them_."

Sabé's voice burst forth, carrying through the space as it had done during many a negotiation when she'd posed as Padmé. She hadn't known whether she had the power of speech while in the Force-user's hold and had spoken more loudly than she'd intended, drawing on the low pitch she had at one time dubbed her "Queen's voice" to compensate for any limitations the Force hold might have over her. But it rang out in that monotone Padmé and all her decoys had perfected to command attention and minimize interruptions by others. And to steady their own nerves.

It stopped the man in his tracks. And it startled Luke and Leia into silence, for a moment at least, their cries subsiding to whimpers. As if they recognized the voice, somehow.

"Forgive me, Your Highness," rasped the Corellian, dropping his head in a bow. "I meant no offense."

This was her first whisper of hope. His belief that she was Padmé gave her a measure of power-a very small one, considering she still could not move a muscle, though the Maker knew she was trying. Her entire body ached with the strain of trying to break free.

"Then release me," she said.

Still bowed, he lifted his eyes to her, briefly, before they dropped to his feet. "You'll punish me."

"You've done nothing to deserve that," she said, though it galled her to do so. " _Yet_." She allowed a threatening note, and felt better for it. "Do you serve me?"

The bow deepened. "With all my heart. You've been my beacon in the encroaching darkness."

_Beacon._ That was the word Yoda had used. She glanced at Obi-Wan, the light of his saber flickering across his face, and knew he was thinking the same thing.

"Then let me comfort my children," she said. "I apologize for drawing a weapon. You understand with the recent kidnappings that I fear for them. But you're right. I do prefer peace. Obi-Wan, put away your lightsaber."

For a moment he merely looked into her eyes as he weighed her proposed stratagem in his mind. They both knew disengaging was a risk, but what other choice did they have? At last he did as she commanded and clipped the weapon to his belt.

Without warning, the stranger released her, and Sabé collapsed before she could take command of her strained muscles. In her periphery she glimpsed Obi-Wan moving toward her, but his arms never came around her, nor did she feel the invisible arms of the Force lift her up. Only a lash across her bare shoulder as it struck the shelf, stabbing pain in her knees as she fell onto something sharp. Belatedly, she registered the sound of something shattering-the porcelain statue and the incense pot that she'd knocked off the shelf on her way down. The twins howled, louder than before. The neighbor pounded the wall again, his shouts indistinguishable in her dazed state.

She glared up at the man in black, who'd let her fall to remind her that though he claimed to serve, he held them in his power. Obi-Wan stood motionless, still poised to leap toward her, now the one held bound by the Force. A rage hotter than any she'd ever felt roiled through her gut at the sight of him like that. She could move now, yet she was still helpless to do anything for him, because _the children were in danger._

Sabé pushed herself off her cut knees, shards embedding themselves in her palms as she did so, and _at last_ was able to stand beside the pram.

"Shh-shh," she murmured, and gave it a push back toward the door. "It's all right." Her throat constricted around the words. Things were far from all right. She looked at the Corellian, drew back her shoulders and drew on the low, steady tones of the Queen's voice. "A walk always calms the children. Please open the door."

"They'll catch a chill."

"Then hand me that blanket." She gestured to the one Obi-Wan had slept under when he'd made his bed on the couch, folded over the arm.

"You're not leaving."

_You said you karking serve me!_ she wanted to scream, but that would have shattered his delusion that she was Padmé. Grinding her teeth, she scooped up Leia, who was-marginally-the louder of the two, though Luke's cry became more shrill without his twin beside him. Sabé held Leia against her shoulder in one arm while she reached the other hand into the crib to stroke the boy's scrunched up forehead. Without thinking about it she began to croon against Leia's hair:

" _Never fear, my love, I'll carry you_

_And when I'm weak, you'll carry me."_

Her voice's warble, and the bone-chilling fear that numbed her fingertips, angered her, but she sang on.

" _We'll go to the mountain and sing out together_

_We'll go to the desert and stand against darkness…"_

The intruder stood next to her now, and it took all her control not to jerk away from him. A queen would not behave so skittishly. His nearness at least allowed her to confirm that he had no weapon on his body. She finished singing the line and raised her gaze to his face.

Looking down at Luke, his eyes welled with tears. "I always wanted children," he said through a throat thick with emotion.

Nausea hit her like a wave at the idea that he might somehow lay claim to them. The way he looked at Luke, and now at Leia, with such naked longing distorting his careworn features-

Another wail from Luke was the perfect excuse to angle her body in between the stranger and the pram. But he merely stepped to one side and lay a hand on Luke's forehead, shushing and cooing as though he had some right. At that, her throat finally did close up in fear and impotent rage.

"This one looks like his father," he said gently, turning to look at Obi-Wan, still frozen.

Though her husband's eyes were on them, Sabé thought there was something distant about his gaze, as though he were _here_ and _not here_. Hope surged through her body now.

"And this one," the man in black continued, casting a benevolent look at Leia in her arms, "looks like you, Your Highness."

Sabé tried to smile, but stopped when she felt her cheek spasm. "Thank you," she said briskly. "Let's sit down and talk. Release my husband and tell us about yourself. What's your name?"

Luke wailed, turning his head this way and that as though he wished to shake off the unfamiliar hand.

"He needs his father. Won't you let Obi-Wan hold him?"

The Corellian bent over the pram. Sabé stifled a scream as he lifted Luke, but she couldn't stop herself from reaching toward him to place a hand on the baby's back as the man nestled him into his broad chest.

Then he turned and thrust the child at Obi-Wan just as he released him from the bind. For one heart-stopping moment Sabé was afraid that he would collapse as she had done, but of course he didn't; perhaps he'd somehow conserved his strength through meditation. Obi-Wan found his balance quickly and clutched Luke to him, pressing his lips to his forehead again and again.

"Thank you," said Sabé, gratified that her voice didn't betray the knee-shaking relief she felt at seeing Luke back in Obi-Wan's arms and quieting.

"Insurance," the stranger shrugged, giving Luke one more pat on his rounded back. "I trust you won't attack me with your son in your arms. Were you meditating just now?" The question sounded maddeningly conversational as he crossed to sit in one of the two dining room table chairs.

Obi-Wan responded in kind as he and Sabé instinctively moved toward each other, drawing comfort from the brush of their shoulders as the twins settled in their arms. "I learned the value of meditation during moments of duress from my Master."

"I never had the benefit of a Temple education," the other man replied, and Sabé tried to work out whether there was a hint of bitterness in his voice, or mockery-or both. "There is much we can teach each other."

"Oh? And what would you have me learn?"

"Aren't you curious why you didn't sense me inside your apartment?"

"I was…" Obi-Wan's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "...distracted."

The stranger shook his head, mouth curling, feline. _Oh you poor boy_ , he seemed to say, and Sabé wanted to knock the smirk off his face. As he spoke, her gaze drifted past him, to the corner behind the crib where she last remembered stowing her staves.

"It was more than that. I learned from the best how to cloak my presence in the Force. Though...he was not my master."

"Who was he?" asked Obi-Wan.

"First let me tell you who _I_ am. My name was-is-Astor. Astor Ren."

Spying the staves on the floor, camouflaged against the molding, she swung her eyes back to the hooded blue ones. "You're a Knight of Ren."

He raised his chin, looking very pleased by this. "You've heard of us."

Everything clicked into place, the old childhood games about the masked knights. She glanced at the helmet which sat on the table like a centerpiece.

"They founded Keren," she said. "I have a book…"

Meeting Obi-Wan's eye briefly, she stepped away from him, Astor twisting in his chair but thankfully not rising from it, following her only with his gaze as she crossed the flat to the cabinet where she kept her collection.

"Master Jinn and I used to discuss the writings of Amaar Ren," Obi-Wan said.

Astor chuckled, almost good-natured. "This certainly is a night of surprises."

Sabé brought him both bound volumes of the history and the fairy tale, and then, remarking that Leia seemed sleepy, carried her back to the living room.

"I'm afraid my knowledge of the Knights of Ren ends there," she said. "The Jedi are the only Force users I have personal experience with."

She glanced back over her shoulder just in time to see that Astor had pulled off his gloves and licked his thumb to turn a page. She thought how careful Obi-Wan had always been with the precious books, asking for her permission before he'd even dared to take one out of the cabinet.

"Tell me more about your order," she said, "and what brought you to us."

Leia fussed when Sabé lay her in the crib. She patted the baby's back and hummed low as the intruder replied.

"We're not an _order_ , not in the sense of the Jedi Order. We work alone, toward our own ends. _My_ path brought me alongside someone who posed a threat to Jedi and Ren alike."

"Darth Sidious," said Obi-Wan, darkly, and Luke whined.

"Yes." Astor clapped the book shut and shoved it aside. "But he discovered my plot to assassinate him and he...dealt with me...personally."

"He broke your mind?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Which you restored," answered Astor, inclining his head in a bow of thanks.

So this man and Obi-Wan had some sort of shared history. At the very least, her husband had helped him, probably through the Force-though certainly he hadn't intended this outcome.

For a moment the only sound in the apartment was Sabé humming as she tried to piece together the limited information. The Knight of Ren stared into space, as though he were lulled by the song. Leia had long since stopped thrashing about and her breath came in even, if rapid, puffs beneath Sabé's hand. She removed it, slowly, and reached for one of the blankets that hung over the edge of the crib. Instead of picking it up, she let it slip to the floor. Catching Obi-Wan's eye, she reached under the crib until her fingers brushed against her staff. She gripped it, pulled it into easy reach should the need arise, and straightened up again with the blanket.

"Forgive me, Astor," she said as she draped it over Leia; calling him by his name felt too familiar, but he'd called Obi-Wan by his to be insolent, and she'd be damned if she was going to address him by a title,"but why would Darth Sidious break your mind instead of just killing you?"

"Death would have been kinder," he replied. His eyes darkened, a spasm of emotion contorting his features. Sabé thought that was all he would say on the matter, until he blinked and went on. "But he wanted to make an example of me to other assassins."

"Then we're both enemies of the Empire," said Obi-Wan.

A thrill of admiration surged through Sabé as she realized what he was doing: buying them time with flattery and bonding. The Negotiator, indeed. While they spoke, she racked her brain about what else they could use to defeat this Knight of Ren, but her only other blaster lay in a box at the top of her closet. The staff would have to do. If she could knock him out cold, all the better for an easy escape. It wouldn't do to have the law on her trail; one wanted man was enough in any family.

"Which brings me to my offer," said Astor. "I owe you a life debt, and I have but one thing of value to give you."

"I didn't save your life."

"No. You transformed it." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands together as though praying. "That's why I've been looking for you. I felt you calling to me. That's how I found you here. In _Keren_ , of all places." He slapped his knees with a hiss of laughter. Then he leaned forward again. "You transformed my life...and I would like to do the same for yours."

Sabé's heart gave a sickening lurch. She could only imagine what _transformation_ he had in mind.

"We already have plans," she couldn't help snapping.

The knight's glare would've withered her where she stood if she weren't already so terrified and angry. "This war won't be won by militaries and rebellions, _Your Highness_."

"Do you dare to question my judgment?" She drew herself up, looking as imperious as she could despite a hammering heart. What could he know of the Rebellion, their plans to join it?

"I...suspect you haven't had the benefit of-" He glanced at Obi-Wan. "-another option."

"Then enlighten me," she replied.

Her breath caught as Astor rose from his chair. Though he was thin-malnourished, even-and not unusually tall, the Knight somehow cut an imposing figure, with his erect posture and puffed chest. _Proud_ , she thought. Preening, even. Again that look of the reekcat who'd caught the rdava-bird, his lips smiling around a secret that was his alone to divulge.

"What if I told you," he said, striding slowly around table, "that it was possible for any Force user to cloak himself in darkness. What couldn't he accomplish?"

"I would say that many have been seduced by that promise, and fallen forever to the darkness," Obi-Wan replied, looking into the face of Luke but clearly thinking of the other Skywalker boy he'd raised.

"Come on, Kenobi, set aside your prejudices! There are ways that are deeper and wider than Light and Dark. Darth Sidious draws upon all of it. _So could we_."

"It was that belief which destroyed the Jedi Order."

_And a family,_ Sabé thought. _The Queen Astor Ren believes me to be._

"Then you surely see how the Knights of Ren must fill the void," Astor said. "Something will. Even now the Force seeks a womb, a place to be reborn."

If Sabé could command the Force, her staff would have been in her hand at this moment. It was all she could do to resist crossing her arms over her stomach where the new life grew. Cold settled in the pit, icy tendrils unfurling outward. Astor Ren was only speaking metaphorically. He couldn't know...could he? What if he'd seen the medical droid? Somehow retrieved the data from her examination…

"I think Luke needs to be changed," said Obi-Wan. "May I?"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Astor replied.

"Perhaps _you'd_ like to do it, then."

The Knight of Ren recoiled slightly. _I thought you always wanted children?_ Sabé thought.

"He'll be screaming again very shortly if someone doesn't," Obi-Wan said in warning tones. As if prompted, Luke started to whine and kick his feet against him.

Astor's chin tightened as he weighed the situation and finally made his decision. " _She_ can tend the baby." A twitch of his head indicated for her to come take Luke from Obi-Wan. He barely allowed them to exchange glances before he commanded, " _You_. Sit."

Luke was not happy to be removed from Obi-Wan's arms, even less so to be laid on the changing table and divested of his little silk trousers. It seemed impossible to Sabé that only this afternoon the twins had been blessed by the Sisterhood of Requiescence. Not least of all because this night was turning out to be anything but blessed.

As she pretended to change the diaper, she began to hum again, as much for the calming effect it might have on their captor as on the child.

When Astor resumed circling the table where Obi-Wan was now seated with his back to her, he adopted a tone that was more preacher than professor.

"The Force is strong in the boy. In both of them. I sense it. I sensed it before I found this apartment. The Emperor will sense it, too, and destroy them, as he seeks to destroy all of us. I can teach you how to hide them, in better places than this. After all, the Emperor hid in plain sight and no one was the wiser." Astor stopped across from Obi-Wan and looked down at him. "You were in his company quite often, were you not, _Master Jedi_?"

Sabé glanced over her shoulder to see Obi-Wan's profile as he looked away from Astor, who gave a satisfied _hmph_. The knight picked up _The Cursed Prince and the Brave Handmaiden_.

"I remember this fable," he said, wonder in his voice as he flipped through the pages, stopping here and there to look at an illustration. "I heard it as a child. But only _The Cursed Prince_. I didn't hear the other part of the story until I was grown."

"Fables impart wisdom to every reader," said Obi-Wan, "no matter his age."

A silence followed, but Sabé dared not turn around too often. She kept humming.

"You like this story? You read it to your children?" Astor's voice was pitched as though he meant for her to respond.

She turned, keeping one hand on Luke's tummy. "They're a little young, but...I do like it."

"What does a queen care for a handmaiden?"

"A great deal." Sabé turned her back to him again, put Luke in the crib next to Leia, and rubbed their bellies through their blessing day finery. Both of them grasped her fingers as she stroked them, making her eyes blur for a moment. She shook herself. "Mine would have given their lives for me. Mine _did_."

Astor chuckled heartily as though they shared a great joke. "They certainly did, Your Highness. I saw the holos of the body at the funeral. It was quite well done."

For one teetering moment she felt unmoored by his insanity, and a bubble of crazed laughter threatened to burst from her lips. She focused on the tiny fingers wrapped around hers, the wide eyes staring up at her, and made the twins a silent promise: _We'll get you out of this_.

When she spoke, her voice trembled for a second, but she pressed into it until it steadied. "Who doesn't love a redemption story? Every sinner has a future."

Another silence crashed into her from behind, and she knew she'd misspoken.

"You said I haven't done anything wrong yet, remember." Astor's voice was low and dangerous. She turned to find him staring at Obi-Wan. "Every saint has a past."

Sabé mustered a smile and a shrug. "That's what I meant."

Astor gave her a long, hard look, which she returned with head held high and as neutral an expression as she could manage. Then he looked back down at the fairy tale, continuing to flip through it from one illustration to the next.

He withdrew a photograph she'd forgotten she'd tucked in as a bookmark.

There was no question what it was. She remembered the day her father's colleague Nawal-he'd loved old technology, and even boasted a real camera that he wore on a lanyard around his neck-had taken the photo outside the government building, in the park where she and Obi-Wan had sparred, the park where she'd played as a child while her father stole peeks out the window as he completed his desk work. It was obvious from her mother's pasted-on smile in the photograph that she was struggling to fight back tears. Her father's broad grin belied the tight grip he had around his daughter's delicate shoulders. It was the day before she began her work as Padmé's decoy.

"These aren't your parents," said Astor. "These are not the Naberries."

Obi-Wan's back went rigid. She couldn't see his face. Behind her the children began to fuss again. She wondered vaguely how many bottles they had prepared in the refrigeration unit.

Her brain whirred as she tried to formulate a lie. _As close to the truth as possible_ , she remembered from her training.

"They're the Al'Lurs. Their daughter, Sabé, died in the line of duty. I keep this to remember them in my prayers. She was their only child."

"Tragic," Astor remarked, not sounding the least bit affected by the story, but his attention was back on the text, flipping through the pages.

Stopping at the front. Sabé's heart stopped, too, remembering the inscription inside the cover.

" _To Sabé, my bravest handmaiden, for all your service_ ," he read. " _With great thanks...Padmé._ "

For an eternal moment, no one spoke, the Knight continuing to stare at the delicate writing. Without raising his eyes, he said, "The Al'Lurs returned this to you after Sabé died? A gift from a _queen_?"

"After they died, it was sent-"

"LIES!"

Astor's arm swung back and then hurled the book at the cupboards that hung over the kitchen sink and range. The glass front shattered, as did the crockery inside, and once again the babies shrieked. Obi-Wan leapt to his feet, the chair toppling backward with his movement. The knight wheeled on him, grasping his arm before he could reach for his lightsaber.

But Astor glowered at Sabé. "You lied to me. You're not the queen."

"No," she admitted. "I'm sorry-"

"Padmé is dead."

"Yes." Sabé's breathless voice was barely audible with the twins' wailing.

She had no idea what to expect, but what Astor Ren did next was the furthest thing from her mind. He fell to the floor, face buried in his hands.

And wept.

His body shook with silent sobs until he took a breath, then his keening filled the tiny apartment as he rocked on his knees, raked his hands through his thinning hair. Obi-Wan frowned down at the man at his feet, then slowly stepped away from him as he turned toward Sabé. His fingers twitched. Then his eyes darted downward.

At the same moment she felt something nudge her heel. The staff.

Obi-Wan's eyes met hers again, and he nodded. _Now._

But as she bent to retrieve the staff from beneath the crib, the holoprojector on the desk flickered on.

_"Theed is overrun by Imperials_ ," said the glitchy image of Bail Organa-a hastily made recording. " _The queen is dead. Be ready to leave."_

" _You_ killed her!" growled Astor Ren, rage burning the tears from his eyes as he raised them to Obi-Wan. "Just as the rumors said. She was murdered by a rogue Jedi, and her children stolen!"

_"The queen is dead,"_ Bail's hologram played again, on a loop, underscored by the wailing twins. _"Be ready to leave."_

Sabé swung her staff at the Knight.

An electric shock jolted through her hands and up her arms, twisting her backward. As she fell, her forehead connected with the corner of the desk, and she saw stars. No, lightning, crackling from both ends of the electostaff Astor had summoned from somewhere, anticipating her attack. Obi-Wan's lightsaber ignited.

"Do not fight me," he warned. "You will not win."

_"Be ready to leave."_

"You're not going anywhere." Astor Ren swung his electrostaff at Obi-Wan, sparks flying as it connected with the blue plasma. "Padmé's children belong to me."

Obi-Wan's only response was a rapid series of brutal downward slashes, which Astor barely deflected as he backed toward Sabé. Still dazed, she scrambled to her feet and delivered a jab to the knight's kidney with her smoking staff. He doubled to one side, lashing out with his electrostaff but missing her in his haste to parry another blow from the lightsaber. His defense swung wild and cut a blazing swath across the kitchen countertop. Sabé tried again to strike the back of his head, but he was too close, and she dared not retreat another step toward the defenseless babies who lay screaming in their crib. Sweat rolled thick and sticky down her forehead into her eye. She swiped it away and her fingers came away smeared with blood.

A rhythmic pounding on the back wall and muffled shouts drew her attention. Now someone thumped on the front door. Another voice clearly shouted the words _I'm calling the cops_.

_Kriff_.

Now Obi-Wan swung his saber in a wide arc over the dining room table, slashed through her mother's quilted wall hanging and left a fiery gash in the wall as he advanced again on Astor, who could only block and parry each deadly blow, for if he drew too close to Sabé she'd strike from behind.

And strike she must. She stepped away from the crib and whipped her staff around. The double blows caught Astor's hip and glanced off a shoulder as he danced into the short hall leading to the bedroom. Obi-Wan followed, but there wasn't enough room for two-on-one combat. Sabé stole a look at the twins, whose distress had them shrieking as she'd never heard them before, but there wasn't a thing she could do for them. Did she dare try to bundle them into the pram again? If she had her second blaster, she could blow the locking mechanisms that Astor had destroyed and perhaps escape with the babies, and pray that Obi-Wan wouldn't be far behind.

But the blaster was in the bedroom, which, from the sound of things, was being utterly destroyed.

She must not think about what was supposed to be happening in that room tonight.

_"Be ready to leave_ ," Bail's voice repeated over the holoprojector. Yes, leave. Obi-Wan would want her to focus on escaping. Pivoting away from the hall, Sabé wracked her brain for something, _anything_ in the apartment that would break through the lock, when her gaze fell on the closed drapes. _The window_.

Could she break it? It was transparisteel, but everything in this apartment complex was ancient. If the casings were worn or damaged, perhaps she could batter the pane out. She stumbled to it, tossing her staff to one side just before she threw back the curtains and was met with a startled cry from the neighbor who'd threatened to call the cops. She beat her fist against the surface and shouted, "GET OUT OF HERE, BARWAJ, THERE'S AN INTRUDER!"

Barwaj only gawped at her, not hearing, or not comprehending.

Astor had, though. From the bedroom came a cry of pain, followed by the crash of heavy furniture. He charged back into the living area, and Sabé spun around, realizing two things at once:

Obi-Wan was not at his heels.

She'd left the twins vulnerable across the flat.

Once again the unseen hand clutched her throat. The floor dropped from beneath her feet, transparisteel pressed against her spine. Her lungs screamed as she tried to inhale, but her airway constricted as his black-gloved fingers curled inward and Astor advanced on her, electric vengeance crackling in his eyes.

"Schutta!" he snarled at her. "You and the Jedi scum will pay for what you've-"

He stopped talking and advancing. His eyebrows rose in wonder as his gaze travelled downward.

"What's this?"

The grip loosened and she fell in a heap on the floor. Astor disengaged his weapon and crouched next to her. Was he actually rolling her onto her back?

"No…" she said as she tried to push his hands away. She must have hit her head again. _Kriff. Kriff. Wake up!_

"I sense the Force in you." His hand hovered over her. What was he doing? She felt a gentle pressure on her belly. He was touching her.

"No." She shoved his hand again, but he replaced it, pressed warmly.

"You should have told me," he said with a gentle smile. "This changes _everything_."

"Obi-Wan-"

"Shh, shh, everything is all right. I can help you. The babies. All three of them. What won't we do together?"

"Don't-"

The twins wailed and Astor's eyelids fluttered in irritation. At the window Barwaj pounded and pointed a finger. Astor waved his hand, and the pounding stopped. Barwaj screamed, the sound fading away. When Sabé looked again, the window was empty. There were stars out. The moths were still there, fluttering near the streetlamp.

"Stop. Please."

"Oh, but this is just the beginning. Don't you see? We are the future. I'll teach them."

Sabé tried to rise, but the pounding in her head kept her on the hard floor. Was that a crash from the bedroom? It felt like an ocean wave breaking across her forehead. But yes, Astor's head whipped in that direction, though his hand remained on her stomach.

The children's screaming reached a fever pitch.

"Can't you shut them up?" Astor gritted out.

"I-I can't-"

He tugged at her hand as though to pull her to her feet, but she was so weak. She lay on her side now. She could see the crib, the tiny hands waving, Leia's little fists…

And a figure in the hallway. A blue light...

_"The queen is dead...Be ready to leave…"_

The twins shrieked.

"BE SILENT!" roared the Knight of Ren, flinging a hand out toward the crib.

The cries stopped. Leia's flailing fists dropped.

Sabé's voice lodged in her throat, as if she were having a nightmare and unable to scream. This could not be real. Through a prism of tears she saw Obi-Wan, illuminated by his lightsaber, extend his hand.

The last thing she saw was Astor Ren, lying still and silent on the floor beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Our deepest apologies for giving Obi-Wan and Sabé entirely the wrong kind of wedding knight. ;) FYI, if this fic were film, the role of Astor Ren would be filled by Iain Glen. Because all of the Scotsmen! We'll have one more update Wednesday the 21st, then take Christmas off and return December 28 for the final three chapters. Thanks to all our readers and reviewers! Every comment means a great deal to us. 3


	14. Chapter 14

_The last of our kind_.

The words circled Obi-Wan’s head like carrion deathbirds as he looked down at Luke and Leia in their separate transpariplast cribs in the Polis Massa nursery. Wires and tubes and monitors crept in and out like the legs of so many spiders. Their bodies were stabilizing yet still limp, their breathing quick and shallow. He still didn’t know what Astor Ren had done to them--presumably something that would’ve safely quieted an adult but was too much for a pair of infants.

Dull rage swirled in his gut.

But who deserved the brunt of his anger? Astor Ren? He was dead. The only person left was himself.

A medical droid hovered near the babies while he, Sabé, Bail, and Yoda stood helplessly by, watching and waiting. The gash on Sabé’s forehead had bled into one eye and she’d swiped it away, leaving a garish smear into her hairline, and the bruise around it was already swollen and purple. Her bare shoulder bore a slash, too, and blood had seeped into the white arm binding of her wedding garment. _Later_ , she’d told the medic, _later_ , as she’d steered the droid toward the babies. She swayed on her feet and he wished she’d sit down. The best he could do was hold her up, one arm tight around the ripped waist of her gown. Or was she holding him up?

Fighting had left him shaken, the aftermath depleting him of any strength his adrenaline might've lent. For what had felt like hours before Bail arrived, the apartment, their safe haven for three and a half months, had become a place of horror. Like the Temple, its familiar comfort buried under rubble and flame. The twins, for the first time completely silent and still in their crib. Sabé, bloody and bruised on the floor, and a man's body fallen beside her.

What had _he_ done? Obi-Wan had felt the power flow from his outstretched hand although he hadn't consciously released it. One moment Astor Ren had been alive and looming over Sabé. The next he was dead.

"The twin's vital signs continue to improve." The smooth, metallic voice of the droid slid into his thoughts. "They seem to be coming out of a deep sleep--"

"A coma?" Sabé's voice was brittle with alarm. She'd only regained consciousness herself when the _Sundered Heart_ was well out of range of the Naboo system, disoriented and calling out hoarsely for him. 

For a moment the droid regarded her through its dark screens of eyes. Everything was dark here. Obi-Wan shivered. And cold.

"More like cryostasis," it replied. "As the infants' body temperatures rise, their organ function will return to normal."

Obi-Wan felt Sabé sag against him with her exhale, but the tightness in his own chest persisted. The prognosis should have been comforting. The children weren’t suffering. But neither were they thriving. Wasn't that why they'd taken them from here to Naboo in the first place? The thought shocked through him, like Astor Ren's electrostaff to his side.

He had failed to protect them.

"Just in time you were, Senator Organa," said Yoda. 

"Thank the stars," Bail replied.

It had been his knock on the apartment door that brought Obi-Wan out of the stupor of helplessness as he tried without success to revive Sabé and the children. With the locking mechanism jammed, he'd had to cut the door open with his lightsaber.

“Observed were you, when you departed?”

Bail looked at Obi-Wan. It seemed to take his mind a sluggishly long time to process the question. He shook his head. When Yoda kept peering up at him he said, “No. There was a neighbor--”

_Linz_. His throat closed up. He could not go on.

“Obi-Wan...wiped her memory," Bail continued for him. "And the rest of the apartment residents'. Can’t we discuss the details later?” His voice was low, almost irritated.

“Tracked here you might have been. At stake all our safety is.”

“We weren’t followed.”

Obi-Wan was grateful for Bail’s fielding of Yoda’s barrage of questions, for his mind seemed to be shutting down after giving his account of Astor Ren's attack. He inhaled sharply, drawing on the Force, but felt as though he’d choke on it as he’d done when he was a lad. He shook his head again, squeezed his eyes shut, and his skin felt odd. Absently he dragged a hand over his face. It was tight and sticky with dried tears. He remembered weeping as he looked into Linz’s eyes and told her, _We were never here_.

A sound from the crib drew his attention--the tiniest of grunts. Leia. Emotion wrenched his chest, clamped around his throat. Beside him, Sabé shuddered through a tearless sob.

Bail reached into the crib, stroked Leia's dark hair, smiling faintly. "You're a fighter, aren't you, little one?"

"Like her mother," said Sabé, hoarsely.

_Like you_ , Obi-Wan wished he could say, but still he had no voice. He held her tighter.

"The attack on Queen Apailana," Yoda said. "Related to this, do you think it is?"

Bail's recorded voice, looping during the fight in the apartment, echoed in Obi-Wan's head now. _Theed is overrun by Imperials._

"This Knight of Ren made a personal enemy of Darth Sidious," he managed to say. "He thought he'd make me an ally against him."

"The Queen requested a meeting with me in the morning," Bail said. "I imagine that whatever it was about...is why the Emperor targeted her."

Sabé clutched Obi-Wan's arm. "The holos last night...Her doubt about a Jedi murdering Padmé…"

Yoda's eyes held his unblinkingly. "A disturbance in the Force I sensed during my meditation. Familiar voices, crying out, and then silenced. A chasm where once many Jedi stood."

Obi-Wan felt it, too, now, mingled in the shadows of his own losses. He should have felt shame for his failure to come to their aid, but what were a handful of voices to his entire world? He closed his eyes, clutched his trembling fingers into a fist at his side, pressed Sabé tighter against him.

“Are you saying that Queen Apailana may have harbored Jedi?” asked Bail.

The beacon. Perhaps it was more than Luke and Leia that Yoda had sensed on Naboo.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan saw the little Master nod and shuffle over to face the swaddled babies.

“Now,” he said, “in this room only do I sense the Light.”

Obi-Wan’s hand uncurled and brushed over Sabé’s dress, coming to rest over her belly. Her fingers covered his as she buried her face in his shoulder. He kissed her forehead, careful to avoid her injury, and did not meet Yoda’s gaze as the ancient Jedi drew himself up.

"Calm your mind, meditation will."

The suggestion made Obi-Wan feel anything but calm, and Yoda must have sensed it through the Force.

"Sleep might have a more satisfactory effect," Bail said. "We'll know more about the situation in Theed in a few hours when the holos update. I've got people there."

"I know the palace better than anyone," said Sabé. "I should go--"

"You should go to bed," Obi-Wan said, guiding her toward the door. "As should I...We've had a very...eventful day…"

It was supposed to be...just….not these events. Leaving the babies here, so helpless and in need of care, felt wrong, but there was nothing more to do for them at the moment, and he and Sabé would be no good to them tomorrow if they didn't sleep. And there was their child, the one she carried, to think of.

He bent over the cribs to kiss the babies, and as he straightened up, Yoda caught his eye.

"The truth you are still not ready to hear.

Obi-Wan knew the truth, kark it. Or suspected it. He took Sabé's hand. "Tonight the truth is that I must look after my wife."

Was it even night anymore? On Polis Massa it seemed always to be, the standard day cycles marked by chronos rather than daylight and dark. What time was it on Naboo? The sun hadn't risen when they fled the planet. Surely it must have by now. Or if not, would soon.

And as day broke, so would news of the Queen's death.

It came as a small comfort, the realization that he and Sabé would've woken to that whether Astor Ren attacked them or not. They still would've had to flee Naboo the morning after their wedding.

But they would've had a wedding night first.

"You ought to have a medical droid examine you." His voice felt gritty in his throat, as if he'd swallowed sand.

"In the morning."

"I think it is morning."

"After we sleep."

Of course she was right. If she’d miscarried, what good would knowing it now do anyone?

Mutely, they left the nursery, their footsteps a whisper down the silent sterile hallway to the quarters he'd passed a few nightmare-plagued nights in when he was here before. After Mustafar.

In their haste to get medical attention for the children, they'd left their few belongings on Bail's ship, but a droid had brought it all. Obi-Wan pulled off his boots just inside, his gaze drawn to the only color in the room: the vibrant green foliage of two of Sabé's houseplants, the bright red of the cactus bud that had bloomed that morning. As if recalling a dream he saw himself returning to the flat from Linz’s apartment, finding that Bail had packed two bags and was ready to leave. Before Obi-Wan scooped Sabé up in his arms, he'd grabbed the cactus and her wish plant and tucked them at the limp babies' feet in the pram.

_I wished for you_ , her sweet voice haunted him. Why? When all he'd brought her was...loss? 

He crossed the room to the bed, narrower than the one they'd shared, though wide enough for two if they slept close. Which they did. Obi-Wan drew back the coverlet and sheets, stark hospital white, so crisp that he remembered them irritating his skin when he'd slept here exhausted before, though he'd thought that was nightmares of Mustafar's flames.

His grey jacket had a hole in the side, he saw as he fumbled with the buttons. A flash of blue lightning, then a searing shock as Astor Ren swung his electrostaff into Obi-Wan's side when it was exposed by his upraised arm to stop the dresser from hurtling into him. He hastened to get the burned garment off, shucking it untidily to the floor beside the bed.

Sabé had made no move to undress, just stood staring at the door on the other side of the bed.

"The 'fresher's through there," he said, "if you need it."

"I need a shower. I feel…" Her gaze dropped to her hands, which she was wringing together. Fidgeting with her wedding band.

He pictured them, beside his, immersed in the holy water in the Temple of Varum. Cleansed of the past.

"I feel it, too," Obi-Wan said, and again he took her hand to guide her to the 'fresher.

The lights glared off the chrome fixtures and scrubbed tile. He squinted, recalling early mornings after sleepless nights when Sabé flung back the curtains and he'd recoiled. Why had he ever complained? She started the shower and soon the small space filled with steam, diffusing the harsh light as she began to undress.

"Your gown," he said as she unwrapped the tabard. He reached out, traced the edge of the rent neckline of the underdress with his fingertips.

Sabé looked down, seeming to notice for the first time. He watched her forehead buckle. "Oh."

Apologies swelled in his throat. For not protecting her from Astor Ren...For having anything to do with the madman in the first place…

She looked back up at him. "I wouldn't have minded if it got ripped because you were impatient to get it off me."

The knot in his throat loosened as a chuckle pushed out, a foreign sound in this environment, in this context, but Sabé always had managed to make him laugh when it seemed impossible that he ever would again. _I hope someday to make you smile in better circumstances,_ she'd said, but weren't circumstances like these the ones where it was most needed? How naïve he'd been to think that his had taken a permanent turn for the better. His hand moved down to rest on her hip. "We've ended up locked in a 'fresher after all." 

Her eyes shimmered, but it wasn't the same as beneath the lights in Club Deeja where the ruge liqueur had emboldened him to speak the most risque words he'd ever dared. He trailed his hand lower, the other joining it to grasp the skirt and lift it up as Sabé raised her arms over her head for him to help her out of the dress. As he draped it over a towel bar, she peeled off her sleeves to reveal arms mottled with bruises, a particularly large one on her right shoulder around the cut. Though not as bad as the one he saw on her hip on that side as she stepped out of her underwear. Tiny cuts, as from broken shards, slashed across her palms and knees.

Unmoving, she held her underwear and whispered, “There would be blood. Here. If…”

Obi-Wan wanted to believe that, and relief clutched his heart so hard that it hurt. “All right,” was all he said before pulling her into him. They stood together, reeling, until he realized his legs shook from fatigue. Stepping back, he took her underthings and tossed them on the pile with the bloody sleeves.

He passed a hand across his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned back heavily against the door. "This isn't at all how I envisioned undressing you tonight."

"I envisioned you unpinning my hair. With the Force."

She stood at the sink, looking into the mirror, though it was too fogged with steam for her to see her reflection. Obi-Wan pushed off the door and shuffled to stand behind her. Raised his hands to the complicated knot of plaits at her nape and squinted in search of the hairpins that held the coiffure together. Hairdressing was meditative, Sabé had told him, laughing, during the drive to the Temple of Varum in Bail's speeder. He reached out for peace as his thumb and forefinger closed around the neck of a pin.

Her face, painted like the Queen of Naboo by his own hand, strobed across his mind.

The pin _pinged_ on the tile.

He moved away from her, stripped off the rest of his clothes while Sabé let her own hair down from the pins and plaits. His body bore bruises, too, purple streaks that marked his ribcage, the burn along his side, but he didn't feel them. Didn’t feel the scalding spray of the shower when he stood beneath it.

Numbness was taking hold of him, and along with it, a sense of déjà vu. The numbness of loss and he were growing intimately acquainted.

Obi-Wan reached out, not for the Force, but for Sabé. She placed her hand in his, and he pulled her into the shower with him, her body flush against his own, heedless of the pressure on his bruised ribs. He leaned on her, and she leaned on him, each holding the other up. They wept together as they had at Padmé's funeral, but now the shower washed their tears away as soon as they fell, so that he could taste no trace of them when their mouths met.

The desperation of her lips and tongue, her teeth, her fingers clutching at his hair, came as no surprise in light of how close they'd come to losing each other. What did catch him off guard was the hot flare of desire. It radiated through him, from every part of them that touched, spreading to the numb extremities, warming him the life back into him as the water had not.

What had happened tonight, what would happen tomorrow, had not altered their love by any degree. It was that same connection that opened with the touching of hands on a palace balcony so many years ago. If anything, it increased it, made it stronger.

With a whimper of naked longing, he kissed Sabé deeper, stepped her back until he had her against the shower wall. Her arms hooked around his neck, she lifted one leg as he grasped it behind the knee to position himself at her entrance. He pushed into her, and her gasp broke the kiss. Though it ached to do so, Obi-Wan stood still, buried within her, allowing her to shift to accommodate him comfortably. When she had her foot braced on his thigh, she pressed her cheek to his and rolled her hips, signaling that she was ready.

As he began to move, he pictured his beard leaving streaks of pink down her skin. Feeling her huff into his ear with each thrust, he feared he was hurting her and made himself go slower, shallower, only for her to grasp him by the hip and urge him to continue as he had been, hard and fast. He moved his hand from her leg to cradle her back from the bruising shower tiles. Sabé's fingernails dug into his backside, her teeth bit into his collarbone, stifling her cry as he came undone.

She remained tight around him as a series of aftershocks kept him pulsing into her. Even when he was all but spent, she continued to cling to him. Her want renewed his energy, and he pushed into her in earnest. Nevertheless, her climax took him by surprise, her breath escaping in a groan against his neck as she went slack in his embrace, his bracing hand leaving the shower wall to hold her upright and joined to him.

After a moment she raised her head from the curve of his neck, leaned back to look into his eyes. The smear of blood from eye to hairline had only partially washed away as they’d stood under the shower together, so he rubbed at the remainder with his thumb and a little soap. He dispensed some shampoo and worked his fingers through her hair to cleanse it of the sticky blood. Sabé closed her eyes throughout his ministrations, her forehead wrinkling again, but she did not cry. Finally he steered her toward the shower head once more and combed his fingers through the wet waves of her hair, pushing it back from her face and over her shoulder. He cupped her jaw in his palm as she angled her head to claim his mouth again.

They kissed for a long time, until he felt her trembling against him. The water had gone cold, but more than that, Obi-Wan sensed her shock was wearing off.

He reached back to shut off the tap, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. As he dried her, Sabé opened her mouth, but any protest she might've made was carried away by a yawn. She sagged against his chest, allowing him to towel off her dripping hair, and seemed half-asleep already. But as as she put on sleeping clothes, she heard his hiss as he rubbed a towel over the electrostaff burn on his side. She retrieved some ointment from the 'fresher cupboard, returning to push him gently down on the bed to rub some over the wound and his bruises with the lightest of touches before lying down next to him.

Though her eyes immediately closed, she remained just aware enough that when he turned toward her, she slipped into his arms, threading her legs together with his. Sleep claimed her almost at once, and he followed her soon after, the trail of his dreams taking him to Theed.

There she was, the last time he'd seen her as the Queen of Peace, in her black boots and Jedi-like garments, only criss-crossed in red and black rather than his own plain white and brown. No, not the queen. It was Sabé. When he blinked again it was Padmé.

She knelt in a temple over younglings, scattered about like plush toys from a broken child's mobile. But now it wasn’t the temple; it was the palace in Theed again, and it wasn’t younglings but Jedi he knew, Masters and Knights, warriors all, their bodies bent into unnatural positions, smoking, aflame. The queen’s shoulders shook in silent sobs, her hands upturned helplessly on her knees, that heavy headpiece turning as she gazed at one body and the next and the next.

It disturbed him that he couldn’t see her face, but a blackness shrouded her. It was like trying to see the sun as it eclipsed a moon, a moon that loomed darkly, obscuring the light that should have kept it in shadow. _Who?_ he wanted to shout, but he could not speak.

He saw her now. The paint on Padmé’s face turned to blood, running down her chin and neck as her panicked voice stabbed through his head: _HE’S HERE. RUN._

Suddenly the shadow behind her seemed to fill the whole of the room, and there he was.

Vader.

Anakin.

Young and alive. He sneered at the crouching Obi-Wan, who began to weep.

_You have no right. They’re mine._

_No_ , Obi-Wan wanted to say. Why wouldn’t his mouth work? His mind screamed, _They’re mine. You’ll only destroy them._

Anakin raised a flaming saber, red as a sun, and held it to Obi-Wan’s throat.

_Give them to me_.

Only Obi-Wan wasn’t sure who had said it. But now he stood, holding the bare blade in his hand, pointing it at his chest, tears streaming down his face as he let Anakin strike him down.

He sat up in bed, Anakin's presence so strong he was sure he would meet those golden hate-filled eyes in the dark, but there was only the glowing face of the chrono. He'd been asleep for hours, though it felt like mere minutes. Sabé still slept soundly, in exactly the same position on her side, one hand resting on her middle. The twins would be waking for their bottles. _That_ was what he'd sensed, as he had a hundred times. The thought did nothing to steady the pounding of his heart or relax the hairs that stood at the back of his neck.

By the light of the chrono he crossed the room and found the bag containing his clothes. His fingers brushed the hard bindings of Sabé's books; he didn't remember packing those. He _had_ grabbed the broken pieces of her little Goddess of Safety statue. One thing, perhaps, that could be salvaged, mended, from the wreckage. As he pulled on the first trousers and tunic he found, a rustling sound drew his gaze back to the bed, where Sabé stirred.

"Obi-Wan?" She reached for him on the empty side of the bed.

"I'm here," he said, and he felt a wince in his chest as he saw the relief wash over her face. "Don't get up," he added as she started to. "I was just going to check on Luke and Leia. You should sleep, my love."

But of course since he'd mentioned the children she wouldn't lie down again, so he draped his cloak over her shoulders and, wrapping his arm around them, too, guided her back to the nursery.

Crying had never been such a welcome sound, he thought when it filled his ears the instant the door whooshed open. At this moment he'd rather hear it than the ballads of Melodic Order, and a glance at Sabé's watery eyes told him she felt the same. The droid had removed some of the wires and tubes, so they were able to lift the babies out of their cribs right away.

_You have no right. They're mine_.

The voice, dripping with accusation and rage, made him twitch as he nestled Luke into his chest.

_Perhaps_ , Obi-Wan thought, _but I am theirs_. He set his jaw and went to retrieve the perfectly-warmed bottles that had appeared from behind a sliding cabinet door. Handing Sabé one, she shooed the droid away and they sat facing each other with knees touching on the visitors’ sofa.

How things had changed since the last time they’d sat here together. And yet nothing had changed at all. This new hollow, numbing loss--so like the old one--seemed to mock the happiness they’d snatched at so desperately. Soon enough, Obi-Wan’s grasping hands would grow slick with sweat and he’d lose his grip, plummeting deeper into the pit without even a breath to cry out.

He was too exhausted to speak and, judging from the circles under Sabé’s eyes and the hard line of her mouth, so was she. They'd sat in wearied silences before, not needing to speak, but this wasn't like those times. There was much to say now, but no words seemed adequate. He couldn't meet her eyes for long, and so looked down at Luke, who stared up at him with those crystal clear blue ones as he noisily sucked at his bottle. But they, too, pierced him.

Sabé’s warmth left him when she unfolded to stand with Leia, who finished her bottle first. She hummed softly as she burped the infant girl, her back to him, and Obi-Wan turned his head to see Leia's eyelids already drooping over her glazed brown eyes. In the aftermath of whatever Astor Ren had done, she must be exhausted, too. A swell of impotent rage washed over him at how he’d failed to protect these two helpless babies. Luke finished his bottle as Sabé put Leia back in her crib. Obi-Wan burped him and lay him beside his twin, ignoring the medical droid's admonition that there were two beds. That, at least, felt right.

For now.

Perhaps the holos would have something finally. Using voice command, he requested the latest news from Theed. Too tired to read, he sat with Sabé on the couch as a holovision screen flickered to life on the small table in front of them, and a female newscaster spoke:

_“Naboo found itself once again at the center of galactic affairs when Queen Apailana was killed within the royal palace during an Imperial raid last evening. She was suspected of harboring fugitive Jedi, though the identities of the bodies have not yet been released. The raid was led by a heretofore unknown Imperial leader, Lord Vader, whom Emperor Palpatine placed in charge of the task force--”_

Sabé's hushed voice spoke over the newscast. “Did she say…?”

“Vader.”

“But...you killed him.”

“I...left him for dead,” Obi-Wan heard himself say. “He should have died. There’s no way he could’ve survived--”

But if Obi-Wan and the Council had seen potential in Anakin, the _Chosen One_ ...then Palpatine must have. Could he have brought Anakin back from the brink of death? _Would_ he?

Anakin died. Darth Vader lived.

_He lived._

The Force shifted, and Obi-Wan knew it to be true. The enduring loss he’d felt for the past few months, the twang and pull in his chest, now settled home in his gut where, somehow, he knew it would live for the rest of his days.

Pressure on his hand. Sabé gripped it, white-knuckled, her face drained of color, too.

_"Footage of Lord Vader was captured by security cameras. A word of warning, viewer discretion is advised due to disturbing images..."_

In place of the newscaster's desk appeared the pillared throne room, Obi-Wan's nightmare come to life. Vader stood with his back to the holocam, a striking figure in black against the pale marble backdrop. Red saber burning at his side. A cape billowed over his armored shoulders, head encased in a gleaming helmet. Eerily like the intruder they'd faced in their apartment; little wonder Sabé reacted the way she had. A thought flickered through Obi-Wan's mind that he should return the squeeze of her fingers, a gesture of reassurance. But how could he provide that when it was because of him that Darth Vader lived?

There was no doubt in Obi-Wan's mind that it _was_ , indeed, Vader. His stomach turned inside-out, sickened by thought that their bond had not been entirely severed. That he knew the thoughts which lurked beneath the helmet as the man--however much of him remained--contemplated the empty throne behind the expansive desk. At Vader's feet-- _cybernetic limbs_ , _they would all be cybernetic_ \--lay a heap of red and black that could only be Queen Apailana, flanked by two more in the sunset shades of handmaidens' robes. The legacy of Anakin Skywalker, love twisted into a hate that destroyed everything in Darth Vader's path.

Yet hadn't his own love for Sabé, their child, Luke and Leia, fueled a power he couldn't name?

Vader turned. For the space of a heartbeat Obi-Wan imagined he saw himself reflected in the lenses of the mask. Choked as a hand went up.

The holocam feed cut off, replaced by the image of the newscaster.

"A breaking update," she said. "Jedi have been confirmed killed in the raid on the Theed Royal Palace, the ringleader identified as Ferus Olin…"

Out the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Sabé turned toward him. He thought she might have spoken, asked how well he knew Ferus. _Very_ , the answer was, but he couldn't say it. A few years older than Anakin, the two had often clashed. It seemed they'd done so again for the final time.

"In lighter news, a ceremony was held in Coruscant to commission the Imperial Palace, upon the completion of extensive renovations..."

"We've seen enough," Sabé said, but not before the holographic image of the Temple appeared, its linear façade draped in black banners blazoned with the blood red seal of the Empire, like a wrapped gift.

The Jedi Order had fallen.

Obi-Wan went to his knees.

"Turn off the karking holos!" Sabé cried.

The room went silent, except for the sound of sobbing. His own.

Sabé's hand touched his shoulder, but he flinched away from her. Rocked forward so that his elbows touched the floor, too. Lower, he could not get low enough. His forehead touched the cold tile, and he clutched at his hair as if he could tear it up by the roots.

His failure was complete.

~*~

It seemed only right that Yoda and Obi-Wan go to Theed in the morning to cast out their senses for survivors--though Vader would have done the same. Both clad in the black of mourning with hooded robes pulled low over their faces, they disembarked Bail’s _Sundered Heart_ and took public transport to the palace. After a couple of mind tricks, and with the help of a couple of Bail’s spies, gaining entry was easy. Too easy. Obi-Wan clenched his hands into fists under his cloak as they made their way toward the throne room.

He had to walk slowly to accommodate the shorter strides of the little Master at his side, and he found his gaze focused on the shiny black boots he’d donned for the first time since Padmé’s funeral. The rhythmic clicking of the heels against the marble floor might have lulled him, if not for the disturbing sense of having done all this before.

And having done it wrong.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, then reached out in the Force. That was why they were here, after all.

Wasn’t it?

Here he was again, in mourning garb, another “no one” among a sea of them, yet sneaking around like he had some right to be here, someone who thought he had the answers or was meant to receive them. As if the Force owed him this.

_It isn't your fault_ , Sabé had said before he departed Polis Massa, the first words she'd spoken in hours. After he'd finally pulled himself off the floor she hadn't tried again to comfort him. Just accompanied him silently from the nursery back to their quarters, where they'd lain in bed, not touching. Not sleeping, either, in his case. But _wasn't_ it, entirely, his fault? He hadn't uttered the words aloud, but her face, pale and troubled as she drew back from giving him an embrace he'd scarcely returned, pressing her lips to his cheek, made it clear she knew his mind.

_Of your own making this trap is,_ Yoda had said the week before. Had he foreseen this? Had it been the Jedi, not Sabé, who led Obi-Wan to Theed the first time? Had he missed _this_ because he'd been too consumed by his own grief and need for comfort?

"Away put your self-pity," came the gruff voice at his side from within the folds of the black hood.

Obi-Wan's eyes snapped up from the floor where he'd seen the Queen lie in the holos, in his nightmares. Her body, the bodies of her handmaidens, had been taken away, the throne room scrubbed of any visible trace of what had happened here last night. The Force, however, bled. An open wound.

But the rend was not the absences of Apailana or the nameless handmaidens whose presences had been absorbed into it. It was a little slave boy who'd stood gawking at the grandeur, the young Padawan who'd had eyes only for the senator he'd accompanied here as a bodyguard…

"So arrogant are you, young Master, that all of this you take credit for?"

A mirthless laugh huffed from Obi-Wan's tight throat." _Responsibility_ is more the word I was thinking of. Or _blame_."

"Absolve Darth Vader, do you?"

Obi-Wan paused. "There would be no Vader if I'd done what you told me to."

"No shame is there in an act of mercy. The Jedi way it is."

"It wasn't an act of mercy. I left him to suffer for what he did."

“Gave him time, you did, to atone before he died, if he wished.”

“I wish I could say that was my intention.”

“Of the Force, perhaps, it was.”

Obi-Wan clamped down on the shout rising in his throat. Was Yoda going to excuse every mistake he’d made, saying it was the Force’s will all along? He strode away from the Master toward the queen’s desk.

He rotated on the spot, casting out his senses. The marble floor, polished until it shone like the surface of Lake Varum on a still afternoon, reflected his own shadow. The Force screamed, an aftershock of last night’s violence, but otherwise an empty silence held the space in an iron grip.

How could that be? It was too quiet. There was no Anakin, no Vader. Only the aftermath of what he’d done here.

He sank to his knees, sat on his heels, rested his hands palm up on his thighs. Closed his eyes.

Sending away all thought, he opened his mind to the blankness surrounding Palpatine and Astor Ren. He opened the door wider to Anakin’s laughter, his anger, the connection they’d shared. The sun shining through the great windows behind Queen Apailana’s desk warmed his back. He threw back his hood and dived deeper. Whispers, like poisoned smoke, curled at the edges of the room. He reached for them.

A hiss of breath. _In_ ... _out_. As if through an artificial respirator. Obi-Wan's lungs burned for a moment, then he exhaled and the sensation dissipated, the smoky particles reforming into the image of that shining black mask. Terror gripped at him, a silent scream as he felt it lower over his head, and he withdrew, eyes snapping open.

"Darth Vader is Anakin," he said, raising his gaze to Yoda, who remained at the top of the stairs. "What's left of him."

None of the good. None of the _light._ Only the troubling shadows that Obi-Wan had learned not to see.

Yoda _hmm_ ed in his throat. Agreement, or acceptance.

"No light do I sense. Embraced the dark side, he has. Cloaked himself within it. Difficult to see.”

_There’s much we can teach each other_ , Astor Ren had promised. Despite the warmth of the sun on his back, Obi-Wan shivered. He stood and went to the window, pressed a hand to the transparisteel pane. His own reflection stared back at him, blue eyes under a fretting brow. The knight had offered to transform his life, just as Palpatine must have done for Anakin. Astor Ren had offered to teach Obi-Wan how to protect Luke and Leia.

And he’d been tempted.

Suddenly he very much wanted to be back on Polis Massa. He had to be sure Sabé and the children were all right. Had she seen a medic droid?

"Vader's presence lingers here,” he said, “but I sense no one else. He killed them all."

He looked down at the Solleu, sparkling in the morning sun, pictured himself scattering Qui-Gon's ashes into the waters after his Master's funeral. No such send-off would be afforded their fallen brothers and sisters by the Imperials. He doubted very much Queen Apailana would be given the funeral she deserved, either. Not as a traitor to the Emperor. Her handmaidens…

His stomach twisted at the thought of Sabé meeting the same fate, or worse. Hiding him had been treason. And now she carried his child... _The most wanted man in the galaxy._ Wanted not only by the Emperor, now, but by Vader, who had a personal score to settle.

"It might’ve been Vader who attacked us last night, and not Astor Ren," he said, turning back toward Yoda. "Luke and Leia had a narrow escape…" _They're mine._

“The Jedi, Vader sensed. A bright candle it was. Lit the sky, it did.”

Obi-Wan was about to protest that it was _his_ mistakes that led Vader to them, but the master pressed on, crossing around the desk to stand with him at the window.

“Now, no candle except the children. Uncertain their paths are, and…" Yoda lifted his face, moss-colored eyes piercing into his. "...uncertain the path of another I see."

Obi-Wan knew Yoda did not mean him. He opened his mouth, feeling like a youngling with a confession that burned for his Master’s absolution, but what could he say?

“To speak of it there is no need,” said Yoda, turning to shuffle back toward the steps. “But protect the child we must.”

If the child lived. As they made their way down the steps, across the expansive throne room toward the double doors, Obi-Wan's heart pounded, bringing him back to the present, physical world in a way he hadn't felt since he kept vigil in the wrecked apartment last night. He thought of sitting together with Sabé on the sofa the day they learned she was pregnant, how she asked whether he wanted a child of his own, and he'd replied with absolute certainty that he did, that this was right in the Force.

More than anything, he wanted to believe he had not been mistaken in this one thing. 

"Balance, the Force will find. Go on it will. The Force never fails."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will _not_ be posting this Sunday, Christmas Day, to ensure that all our readers have the chance to watch the Star Wars Holiday Special. ;) Happy holidays to you all, dear readers! May your days be merry and full of light. See you on December 28.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our deepest gratitude to Carrie Fisher, who became one with the Force yesterday. She'll always be royalty to us.

"Would you like to know the sex of the fetus?" intoned the medical droid as Sabé sat up on the examination table and tugged her tunic over her abdomen. She sniffled back the tears of relief that had come when the droid pronounced baby's heartbeat strong and her womb undisturbed.

"You can tell that already?" she asked, her own heart leaping in her chest at the thought. "Wait. No. I'll find out with Obi-Wan when he comes back."

Whenever that would be. She understood that he wanted to help in Theed if he could, yet that didn't stop her from worrying. What if Darth Vader was there? If Vader alone could kill multiple Jedi, what might he do if he tracked down Obi-Wan, who’d not only maimed him and left him for dead but now had his children? She frowned as she swung her legs over the edge of the table, hoping against hope that Vader could be anyone other than Anakin Skywalker. It seemed impossible that he could have survived the injuries Obi-Wan had dealt him, but who else could it be?

It seemed even more impossible that this could be the man Padmé had loved.

"I am at your service," the droid said, shaking her momentarily out of her worry, and glided away to check the twins' vitals again.

As Sabé slid off the table, she saw Bail standing outside the transparisteel walled room and gestured for him to come in. The door opened with a soft _whoosh_.

"I was going to ask if you'd given thought to yourself," he said, by way of greeting. "That was quite a bump on your head.”

“Oh. Yes.” Sabé touched the tender spot on her temple. Aside from the droid assuring her that the injury was minimal, she’d paid it no mind. “It looked worse than it was. Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

“So I’m told. And everything else checks out?”

“Fighting fit.” She smiled up at him, but the kindness in his eyes made hers fill with tears again before she could turn away.

“Sabé?” Bail trailed her to the couch and joined her when she sat. “What’s the matter? Is it the children?” His eyes darted in alarm to the crib where they lay, pinkies touching, while the droid buzzed over them.

"They're fine," she said, shaking her head as she swiped at her eyes. "All of them."

"All…?" The furrows on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows rose. "Do you mean…?"

There was no need to hide it from him anymore. Besides, he’d brought them to safety once Astor Ren was dead; didn’t he deserve to know?

"I'm pregnant." She felt the stretch of a smile. Despite everything that had happened and would happen, sharing the news felt right.

Bail clasped her hands in his, and his broad grin matched hers. “Happy news! Does Obi-Wan know?”

“Oh, yes. We found out shortly after we decided to marry. It wasn't a blaster wedding."

“Clearly not," Bail said, chuckling. “When two people love each other as much as you do, marriage is only natural. Pregnancy or not.”

“That’s how it felt to us.”

Her smile slipped a little as she remembered how they’d parted this morning. Obi-Wan had seemed so far away already, wearing his grief like a mourning cloak. He’d thought he’d buried the horrors of his nightmares, only to see new ones on the holos last night.

"I should've had an examination before he left. It might have helped him to have good news. But...if it had been bad..."

"Then he'll have this to help him through whatever he may see in Theed." Though Bail pressed her hand, his gaze left hers, drifting toward Luke and Leia again but not looking at them.

It was no secret that his wife, Breha, had suffered miscarriages, and the Alderaanian tabloids never seemed to tire of reminding the public that the royal couple had no heir. Though she and Bail tried to remain optimistic, it must pain them when friends welcomed babies into their families. Sabé squeezed his hands and tried to brighten her smile for him.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for last night,” she said.

“There's no need." The wistfulness that had momentarily etched itself around Bail's eyes faded as they lit with the warmth of compassion. "I'm just glad I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

She laughed. “A hold-father who’s courageous _and_ humble.”

“I have to set a standard, don’t I?” His chuckle mingled with hers until at last he pulled his hands away and sat back on the couch, one arm draped over the seat back. “Speaking of standards to uphold, what sort of work do you envision for yourself on Dantooine?”

The question made her heart stutter with an electric pulse. How quickly all their plans had changed, though Bail didn't see why they should. Oh, how she wished it could be as he believed it would...

"Obi-Wan and I need to discuss that."

They'd tabled that conversation before, so as not to overwhelm themselves...and perhaps to forestall an argument. Sabé loved that their relationship had been largely conflict-free, but she'd willingly quarrel with him about what she would do on Dantooine if it meant going there together was still a certainty.

"Of course. The Rebellion will be glad to have you, in whatever capacity."

She was in danger of crying again, he was so endlessly kind, so she changed the subject. "Has there been anything about Keren in the holos?"

“Reports are still coming in. It’s early yet. Shall we take a look?”

Sabé activated the HoloNet News and requested the latest from Keren, settling back with her legs tucked under her as the first reports droned on about the chilly weather. Finally a newscaster appeared.

_“We now return to an unfolding story from the Marina District, where two bodies were found at an apartment complex in what appears to be another infant kidnapping. But whether the kidnapping was successful or not remains unknown. The apartment contained a crib and fresh bottles of baby formula, but no infant was found. The unidentified man found inside the apartment of Sabé Al’Lur is presumed to be the infant’s father, though Al’Lur could not be located for comment. Law enforcement will not confirm whether evidence points to Al’Lur’s kidnapping or death, as well. Officers have hinted at a hostage situation, as the door appeared to have been cut open from the inside with a laser.”_

Sabé’s stomach roiled at the irony of Astor Ren being cast as the father in this bizarre tragedy. At the memory of lying dazed and powerless while he loomed over her, touching her belly, the twins screaming across the flat. Her own picture flashed on the screen and, feeling Bail's eyes on her, she choked back the bile that had risen into her throat and quipped hoarsely, "I suppose I'd better start using my married name."

"Kenobi will arouse no suspicions whatsoever."

_“The other deceased was identified as Barwaj Megnad, a resident of the same complex. His wounds appear consistent with falling from a height. Police speculate that, given his unblemished criminal record, he may have attempted to stop the kidnapping and been thrown from the third floor balcony. The cause of death of the presumed father has not been determined. Let’s join our correspondent at the site, where he has already spoken with several residents.”_

As they watched the report, it became clear that Obi-Wan's mind-tricks had worked--a relief, yet it was nevertheless unnerving that neighbors she'd known for years and had seen regularly for the past three months claimed to have been too busy to positively identify the dead man in the apartment as her husband. _"I think he may have been blond?"_ said the Alderaanian mother of three who'd given lots of helpful childcare hints; the fish seller who occasionally brought them gifts of his wares said, _"I don't remember him being that old, but I was usually in a hurry to get to work."_

_"We tracked down Linz Vigilis_ ," said the reporter, _"who a number of residents claim knows everyone and everything in the complex."_

Sabé's heart thudded so loudly in ear ears as a dazed-looking Linz appeared on screen that she almost missed her words. One eye appeared bloodshot, but there were no other visible markings. What had Astor done to make her talk? Horror twisted inside her gut, but she shifted forward to listen.

“Sabé’s been working off-planet for months," Linz said as she leaned on her cleaning cart in a hall at the government building, "but I suppose she could’ve come back without my knowing it? No, I’d have seen her. Wouldn’t I?”

“Did she get married?" asked the reporter, off-screen. "Have a baby?”

Linz appeared to think very hard for a moment, but finally shrugged her two sets of shoulders and held out her hands. “Sorry, I’m the wrong person to ask.”

At the conclusion of the report, Bail shut off the holovision and placed his hand on Sabé's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I know it must be painful, but it's for the best."

Nodding, she blinked back another onset of tears and through the prism saw Obi-Wan slumped against the frame of the open door. He looked even paler and more drawn in the black mourning garb than he had when he'd left for Theed. But he was here, unharmed.

Sabé was on her feet and flying across the room to him before she’d even thought to do so. Throwing her arms around his neck, her tears came again, unbidden, and he embraced her, his lips finding her neck and pressing a hard kiss there.

When they broke apart he steered her back to the couch, meeting Bail’s eyes with a silent frown as he got up to give them his seat. “Tell me,” said Obi-Wan in a  tight voice. “The baby--”

Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth as she comprehended what he'd overheard and misconstrued. “Oh! No, no, the baby’s fine. We’re both fine.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged in an exhale of relief. Then he took her hands in his and kissed them, his eyes now glistening with tears, too.

“Were you worried about me, my love?” he asked.

“Of course, you moof-milker,” she said through a tremulous laugh. “But it was more than that."

And she told him about the holos from Keren, the words tumbling out, mingled with tears.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan murmured. "I'm so sorry, I hated to do that to Linz...If there had been any other way..."

"There wasn't. You did what you had to to keep us safe."

The thin line of his mouth told her this did little to comfort him. Of course she'd witnessed him wrestling with the decisions the Jedi had made on other people's behalfs in the name of protection and peace. Even Sabé had become party to the latest scheme; after all, it was her idea to take the twins to Keren in the first place.

Her heart jolted, for she hadn’t asked him about Theed yet. Perhaps his grim expression was because of what he'd found there. Or hadn't found.

"Was there anyone…?"

With a shake of his head he said, “Vader may have taken prisoners, but...Yoda doesn’t sense them, and neither do I. Not like I sensed the twins. Even before I left Theed, I began to feel their pull.”

Sabé cast out for hope, as Obi-Wan spoke about reaching out for the Force, though her grip on it felt tenuous in contrast with the implication, which coiled around her like Astor Ren's strangulating Force hold. “And...Vader?”

Obi-Wan's eyes, which had been trained on the babies' crib, closed. His  jaw tightened through a ragged breath, and she knew. It was him. Anakin. She pressed a hand to Obi-Wan's chest, over his heart, and squeezed his other hand. Laying his fingers over hers on his chest, he opened his eyes. Returned her gaze with an openness she hadn’t seen since before they’d found Astor Ren in their home. Whatever he’d seen in Theed, however awful...it had brought him back to her. Her heart contracted with pain and relief.

"It's fortunate you weren't already at the palace when the raid happened," Obi-Wan said to Bail, who cooed over the sleeping twins, quietly allowing them their moment. "Or Alderaan and the Rebellion would be in even more dire straits."

"I'm more grateful than ever to have been invited to your wedding," Bail replied, coming back to the couch. He reached out to shake Obi-Wan's hand. "I didn't think I could be happier for you two than I was yesterday, but Sabé told me the news and I am. Congratulations."

She heard the catch in Obi-Wan's voice as he murmured his thanks to their friend.

"The droid says we can find out the baby's sex," Sabé said. "If we want to."

His eyes lit up, thoroughly dispelling the lingering shadows. "Yes, of course. I mean, if you do."

"I'll give you two your privacy," Bail said, striding from the nursery but turning back in the doorway to add, "But I expect to be the first to know if it's a boy Kenobi or a girl."

Once they were alone, Sabé summoned the droid. She was surprised by how breathless she’d become.

Having already performed its ultrasound measurements and observations, the medic merely had to release its report: “The fetus is male.”

Sabé and Obi-Wan looked at each other, slow grins transforming their faces.

Obi-Wan said in wonder, “It’s a boy. It’s a _boy_. We’re having a baby boy.”

Sabé could only nod, repeatedly, feeling as though her face would crack from smiling. _A son._

“Oh, stars,” said Obi-Wan. “Now we have to name him.”

They burst out laughing, which startled the droid, who backed away to its corner again. Obi-Wan sank to his knees on the floor in front of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her lap. Sabé combed her fingers through his hair, ran her hand over his neck and back.

After a time, she realized the Obi-Wan’s laughter had turned into soft sobbing as his fists grasped the sides of her tunic as though he were drowning. She curled her body over his and held him until he’d quieted. Her chest felt hollow, and she was quite certain she didn’t want him to fill it with whatever it was he had to say.

But she suspected it was the very thing she’d been avoiding thinking about all morning. She sat upright. _Better out than in_ , as her father used to say.

"Luke and Leia can't stay together,” she whispered over a quivering chin, “can they?"

Obi-Wan shook his head against her lap. "They're too strong. Vader will find them."

Sabé had to swallow and take a few breaths before she could speak again. "I always believed people were stronger together. I never thought they could be _too_ strong."

Obi-Wan squeezed her tighter.

"And we can't be together, either?"

He kissed her belly, pressed his forehead into it. “I can’t be with our son.”

She didn't try to hold back the tears that leaked from her eyes and rolled hotly down her cheeks and chin, falling into his hair. His beard was damp with his own as her fingertips found his chin and tilted his face up toward her. It hurt him to look into her eyes after what he'd just said, she could see that plainly. He was guilty, as if he'd made a hateful confession. And it had hurt her to hear it, because how couldn't it? He needed to hear from her, too, and not her sobs, not, _How will I bear to be without you?_ Though she didn't know how she possibly would. She would have to.

"Then I will," she choked out. "I will," she promised. "And he'll know his father is the finest man I'll ever know."

~*~

“I know,” said Obi-Wan with a squeeze of Sabé’s hand. “We can call him Jar-Jar.”

She swatted him on the shoulder with her other hand, nearly tripping over her own feet on the cold, smooth hallway floor. “Why don’t we just call him Nerf Herder, for that matter?”

“That has a certain ring to it.” Obi-Wan gazed at the lights along the ceiling as he pretended to consider. “But no. We can do better.”

“There are certain species that only use intonation to speak. We could call him _Aah-Ooo-Aah_ ,” she yodeled.

Obi-Wan laughed. “Now you’re onto something.”

Sabé was certainly onto _him_ , for they were about to meet with Yoda and Bail to discuss the twins’ futures. Clearly Obi-Wan was trying to lighten the mood before they entered the sterile meeting space. Perhaps trying to distract himself from the communications he'd just sent to Tatooine.

"Or we could name him after a significant person in our lives," she said, a little more seriously, though not quite ready to leave the playful banter aside. They were nearing the meeting room, and she slowed their walk. "Yoda, I'm assuming, wouldn't find it quite as much an honor as some."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, but was unable, or unwilling, to stop them twisting into a smirk. "No. He would not. And Yoda Al'Lur doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

"Yoda Kenobi's a slight improvement." She felt the hitch of his breath and bit her lip against a chortle. "But in either case I agree. So that's Yoda crossed off the list, then. We're doing a very good job of ruling out names."

“How about Raé?”

They stopped walking and turned toward each other. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised expectantly while Sabé swallowed through a lump of emotion in her throat. If only her father were still alive to receive the honor of having his grandson named after him.

“That would...Let’s keep that in mind.”

As one, they continued walking, their footsteps matching stride for stride, clasped hands swinging at their sides.

“What about Qui-Gon?” she offered.

Obi-Wan glanced at her with a smile, releasing her hand to sling his arm over her shoulder. “I must admit I considered Jinn.”

“Then we’ll keep that in mind, too. See what suits him best when he's born.”

She refused to linger on the idea that there would be no _we_ at the time of their son's birth. Perhaps Obi-Wan could make a short visit to wherever she was. Or they could have a holo transmission. But the reality of that was too sad to consider.

They were at the door to the meeting room, where Yoda and Bail were already seated, and it slid open to admit them, but Sabé hung back. "Obi-Wan?"

He stepped away from the door so that it whooshed shut again and faced her, eyebrows raised.

"What if he's not…" She hesitated, then forged ahead. "What if he isn't Force-sensitive? Or as strong in the Force as you? Could we...be together then?"

Obi-Wan's face was a study in conflicted emotion, and she wished she hadn't asked. What father wouldn’t want his son to follow in his footsteps? Besides, if she were honest with herself, didn’t she want that for their son, too? To have the best parts of them both?

“I’m sorry, that was selfish.”

He took her in his arms, hand cradling the back of her head as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder. "You're facing the prospect of raising our child on your own. There's nothing selfish about you." She felt his kiss on her hair, then he withdrew from her. "We mustn't be too mindful of the future at the expense of the moment."

"Spoken like a true Jedi," she said, and slipped her hand into his again, weaving their fingers together in what she hoped communicated that she loved him because of what he was. "He binds us together. Nothing can change that. Not time or distance."

Hand in hand, they turned to face the door and stepped forward.

After it slid open, Bail’s head snapped up. “Boy or girl?”

Obi-Wan looked at Sabé. “Bail could be another contender for a name.”

Yoda’s _harrumph_ cut Sabé’s and Bail’s shared grins short.

Obi-Wan settled to Yoda’s left near the head of the chrome table and Sabé took the chair beside him, across from Bail. Despite the pleasantries they’d just exchanged, she'd never felt more nervous at a meeting, not in all her time as queen. For this was their lives, their futures, their _family_ they were about to discuss.

She put on her queen’s face and took a deep breath.

“The truth, Obi-Wan, you are ready to hear.”

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, but he, too, gathered himself. “The children are strong in the Force, and there are too few of us remaining. If--if Vader seeks the Jedi, it’s only a matter of time before he finds them, and me, if we remain together.”

Hearing the words out loud was somehow worse than Sabé had thought it would be. She looked up to find Bail staring in disbelief at Obi-Wan and Yoda.

“Surely you can’t mean…?”

“The children’s safety, our priority should be,” said Yoda. “Irrelevant, our personal feelings are.”

If Yoda had any personal feelings on the matter, Sabé would have been very surprised. She ground her teeth together to prevent a scoff from escaping.

“And another there now is.” Yoda nodded to her. He knew about the baby? She looked to Obi-Wan, who gave his head a slight nod. Of course, the little Master must sense him.

She tried not to squirm under that bright green gaze that seemed to regard her, and her unborn son, as a complication. Her shoulders straightened as her certainty grew that she wanted him to take after his father in every way, to be just as strong in the Force. More light to shine out against the dark.

"I see," Bail said, rubbing his hand over his neat goatee as he sat back in his chair. "It's a tragedy to break a family apart, but if you all deem it truly necessary...In the beginning I did offer to take the twins to Alderaan. Breha and I could adopt them."

Sabé closed her eyes as Obi-Wan said in measured tones, "Bail...Luke and Leia cannot stay together, either."

Her lungs burned in the breathless silence that followed as Bail processed this. The backs of her eyelids prickled, too, so she opened them.

"Separate them?" he said at last. "That...It's one thing to take them away from the only parents they've ever known, but from each other, as well?" He shook his head. "Padmé wouldn't want that." He looked to Sabé, as if to say, _Go on, tell them. You were her friend, too._

She stared sadly at him. This had been exactly her position three months ago. And look where it had got them.

"Padmé wouldn't want Darth Vader and the Emperor to find them," she said, and Bail had no counterpoint to this. "Leia's taken a shine to you. She could be the princess of Alderaan. Grow up to be a queen. Like her mother." She felt Obi-Wan's gaze on her profile, but could not look at him. "And most importantly she would be loved."

She hated how her voice caught on that last word, but there was nothing to be done for it.

"But what about Luke?" asked Bail. "Where would he go?"

"To family," Obi-Wan said. "On Tatooine. Anakin's step-brother and his wife have agreed to take him."

"Is there something I'm missing?" Bail asked. "Sending Luke to Vader's home world...that doesn't seem safe."

Obi-Wan smiled faintly, lips tight at the corners. "That's precisely why it is. Anakin hated Tatooine. He was a slave there. His mother was killed by Tusken Raiders. I believe that even as Darth Vader he would never set foot on that planet again."

Bail rubbed his chin again as he considered these points. "The slave trade and Tuskens, though...Not to mention the harsh environment..."

Sabé watched Obi-Wan's index finger trace an abstract design on the glossy surface of the table. "I would go, too. To watch over him."

Another deep breath did nothing to quell the pounding of her heart.

“From a distance,” he added.

Bail huffed in frustration. “So we are to fracture the family entirely. Is that really what it will take?”

“If survival of the last Jedi we desire,” said Yoda, “yes.”

“Sabé.” Bail leaned toward her, hands splayed in supplication. “Surely you can see sense.”

“ _Sense_ ,” she said in as measured a tone as she could manage, “is the whole problem. Astor Ren sensed the children. He sensed Obi-Wan.” She swallowed the panic that rose in her throat. “He sensed our unborn baby. _Sense_ has everything to do with the choices we have to make now.”

Bail’s face crumpled as he watched her say all this. Finally, he nodded and sat back in his chair, thumbs rubbing over clenched fists.

“At least--at least Sabé could come with us,” he said in a clipped tone, his eyes darting toward Yoda and Obi-Wan. “She could watch over Leia, just as Obi-Wan will watch over Luke. You held a position as a governess, Sabé, when you worked undercover. You could be Leia’s governess, and we could make sure you have the best medical care throughout your pregnancy and beyond. And Leia would have...if not a brother, a playmate.”

Sabé’s heart seemed to lodge in her throat. She looked at Obi-Wan, whose eyes were alight for the first time since they’d stepped into the meeting room.

“I’d like that very much,” she said at once, turning back to Bail.

A _hmm_ from Yoda drew her attention. “Safe it may be. For a time.”

“We’ll do it,” Obi-Wan said to Bail. "And...thank you."

Bail shook his head. "I'll contact Breha. She will certainly agree. The Maker knows how we've tried for children. But we'll need to leak an official adoption story onto the HoloNet to eliminate suspicion."

"A war orphan," said Sabé. When Bail raised his eyebrows, she shrugged. "The most convincing lies are the ones closest to the truth."

With that, Bail stood. "Anakin Skywalker has a great deal to answer for."

~*~

As they saw Bail off on the _Sundered Heart--_ he would return in a day or two for Leia and Sabé, and to bring provisions for Obi-Wan and Luke--Obi-Wan sensed the twins stirring in the nursery.

"Just in time for their supper," Sabé noted with a glance at a chrono in the hangar.

They made their way back through the halls of the medical facility , where the nursery door opened with a soft _swish_ that did indeed release the sounds of wakeful children. Not crying for their bottles, though, but cooing happily. Giggling. Their little fists waved above the top of the crib, feet in footed pajamas kicked against the padded monitor on which they lay, and as Sabé stepped around the medical equipment carts she saw through the transpariplast that their faces were turned toward a thin rectangular object propped against the side of the crib.

"What do we have here?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice low, but more lilting than it had been during the terrible conversation with Bail and Yoda.

Picking up the amusing object, Sabé made a sound that might have been a chuckle, or a choked sob, or some combination of the two. It was a holopic of their first kiss as husband and wife. The trailing ends of her gown's tabard, yet unspoiled by the fight with Astor Ren, flared out behind her as Obi-Wan lifted her out of the pool and spun. Then he set her down again, and they grinned at Bail, who'd taken the holo from his position beside the high priestess.

"I hadn't realized he'd brought a holocam until then," Obi-Wan said, looking at the moving picture over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and drew her against his chest.

"I'm glad he did," Sabé said. "We look so happy."

"I've never been happier than I was at that moment," he agreed, his scruff scratching against her cheek as he nuzzled at it.

The holopic replayed and they watched themselves again and again kissing, twirling in the water, and smiling. Sabé could almost feel the water on her feet and ankles, the quiet serenity of the temple, the love electrifying the space between their meeting lips.

She craned her neck to peer at Obi-Wan, whose small smile as he watched the happy moment made up her mind for her.

“We’ll make a copy of this for your datapad,” she said, “and we should find a camera. I want as many photographs of you and Luke as I can stow aboard Bail’s starship.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes brightened. “We’d best get started, then, because I intend to wallpaper my new home in pictures of you and Leia. And your growing belly.”

His hand covered her stomach warmly. She placed the holopic back against the side of the crib so Luke and Leia, who were fussing at having the entertaining object taken away, could see it again, then she lay her hand over Obi-Wan's, slotting her fingers between his knuckles. She didn't have even a hint of a bump yet, though everything she'd read said she would, very soon.

"I'll send you weekly progress pictures," she assured him, pressing his hand more firmly between her hipbones. As if he might be able to feel some movement within her. But of course that would come even later. "And ultrasounds."

"Alderaan will be better for you and the baby than a base on Dantooine," Obi-Wan said, as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her. "I'm so relieved you'll be well looked after."

In terms of medical care, perhaps. But she'd trade all the medical care in the galaxy for him.

Luke began to whine, the holopic not enough to distract him from his hunger. Sabé moved to scoop him up, kissing his feathery hair as she crossed the room to where the bottles were delivered through the slot.

"But who will look after you?" she asked, handing Obi-Wan the other bottle as he joined her, Leia in his arms. "I keep thinking of you all alone, surrounded by a mountain of dirty dishes."

"Oh, I'll manage.” His eyes lit up as though he’d had a sudden epiphany. “I'll buy a dishwasher."

She couldn’t resist ribbing him. "Or you could just charm a nosy neighbor into tidying up for you."

"Yes, Jawas are notoriously nosy,” he conceded as they sat on the couch, nestling the babies against them with their bottles. “But they'd steal my dishwasher."

“Hmm, yes. Best be a hermit and charm your dishwasher.”

He chuckled. “Well, let’s hope I’ll be able to look in on Luke a lot.” His eyes darkened as he gazed down at Leia in his arms. “You will keep me posted on this angry one here.”

Something caught inside her chest. “As often as I can. And you’ll do the same with the whiny one.”

“Indeed I will.”

“And we’ll see each other,” she said, her pitch creeping upward as tears threatened to well in her eyes again. She swallowed and vowed not to speak again until the moment had passed.

“We will,” he promised thickly. “I’ll come to you.”

She nodded, biting on her lips to stop their shaking.

They looked down again at the suckling babies in their arms and were quiet for a time. Luke’s clear blue eyes stared into hers over the bottle, his tiny fingers grasping the sides of it as though she’d try to snatch it away. She smiled, told him how handsome he was, how brave, how lucky he was to have Obi-Wan by his side on Tatooine.

"Bail said it's a harsh planet," Obi-Wan said, "and that's true. But it's also where I first saw you." His eyes met Sabé's. "I'll remember that, every sunset. It's fitting that our journey should end where it began."

It couldn't be the _end_ , could it? That sounded so final. And this would never end for her.

As though reading her thoughts, he went on, voice dropping to a hush. "Or maybe it will begin again. In my dreams. In some other reality where the young Jedi understands his Master's teachings much sooner and loves the handmaiden."

"Where they never have to let each other go," added Sabé.

Obi-Wan leaned forward and kissed her, lingering with his forehead pressed to hers as he said, “I will never let you go.”

They stayed that way until the babies finished their bottles and fell asleep. Once they’d deposited them again in their crib, Obi-Wan wordlessly took Sabé’s hand and led her back to their quarters. He strode briskly, determination in his steps, and when they were safely ensconced in the privacy of the room he took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard and deep, until she felt as though she could barely stand. She reached for the black belt of his mourning garb, but he grasped her wrist, still kissing her as he gently placed her hand at her side. Then he began to unwrap the sash around her tunic. He pulled away from her lips to tug the tunic and undergarments over her head, then he knelt at her feet to pull down her leggings. She balanced herself with hands on his shoulders as she stepped out of her low boots and the rest of her clothing. When she was bare to him, he looked up into her eyes, and the desire she read in his made her heart thud so fiercely she could almost hear it.

Then he lowered his gaze, held her by the hips, and brought his lips to the warm, sweet spot that already throbbed for his touch. For several long moments all thought left her. It was all she could do to remain upright, her hands still clutching his shoulders through his black shirt. Not satisfied with how deeply he could minister to her need, he wrapped a hand around the back of one knee and brought her leg over his shoulder. The new position was very effective, she would admit if she had the presence of mind to form a coherent thought. For now she could only reach out for the wall to her side and press a hand there to keep from collapsing in ecstasy while the other hand raked through his hair.

How long he went on, causing wave upon wave of pleasure to crash over her, she couldn't have said. Just when she thought she'd reached the point where she couldn't take it any more, it began to ebb. He pressed his lips one final time to the taut tendons of her trembling thighs and lowered her leg from his shoulder so that both her feet were on the floor again.

"That's something for my fantasies," Sabé panted when she'd caught her breath enough to speak again.

Obi-Wan _hmm_ ed as he kissed the hollows beneath her hipbones. "And mine." His breath was so hot against her skin, yet goosebumps prickled in the wake of his kisses. "I want to memorize every part of you."

For another several moments she was rendered speechless again as his fingers slid between her ribs, beneath her breasts, and he took one of her nipples in his mouth, his thumb stroking the other. They were sensitive from pregnancy, but she didn't care. She wanted to feel everything he could make her feel.

"I want to memorize you, too," she said, letting her hands slide out of his hair and down his face, to the collar of his shirt. "But I can't see enough of your parts yet. Our state of undress is rather unbalanced."

His warm puff of laughter made her nipple even harder as he pulled his mouth from her breast. "Well then, we must balance it."

She held out a hand, which he took as he stood and allowed her to steer him toward the bed. When the backs of his knees met the foot of it, she pushed his shoulders and he fell backwards...but in doing so he hooked his feet around her waist and she landed on top of him.

“No fair!” she laughed, scrambling out of his reaching arms. “It’s my turn.”

She gave him a stern look, and he pretended to look chastised as he pressed his hands innocently against the coverlet.

When she reached for the fastenings of his shirt, he tried again to wrap a hand around the nape of her neck, but she pulled away and shook her head at him until he tucked both hands behind his head.

“That’s better,” she said. “I’ll have to give you dish duty if you don’t stop interfering.”

His slow smile sent shivers down her spine. She tugged the shirt up and opened it, only to find an undershirt beneath. “This is more complicated than I’d imagined.”

“Then imagine I’m a present to be opened.”

“Oh, I’m imagining more than that.”

He sat up to help her remove the shirts, then obligingly fell backward again when she pushed his shoulder with a finger. Crossing to the foot of the bed, she tugged off a boot, tossing it aside with a _thump_ before she reached for the other. Then she crawled up the bed between his legs to work at the fastenings of his trousers. His arousal strained against the fabric, so she bent down and nipped at him with her lips and teeth through it. His stomach hitched with his indrawn breath, and he swore. Sabé laughed.

"I hope you're not going to make good on that dish duty threat because of my uncivilized language," said Obi-Wan, raising his head so she could see the vaguely sheepish look on his flushed face.

"Quite the opposite, in fact. I was just imagining what my eighteen-year-old self would think if someone told her someday, she'd make the very polite and proper Jedi Padawan curse. I don't think she'd believe it."

"You've corrupted me," he said.

"Yes." She'd count it as one of her crowning achievements to have so thoroughly undone him.

And she was just getting started.

Sabé hooked her fingers over the waistband of his unfastened trousers and underwear and yanked them down over his hips, and he groaned as his arousal was freed from the constraining clothing.  When she'd divested him entirely of his trousers, discarding them on the tile floor with the rest of their clothes, which left a satisfyingly untidy trail back to the door, she ran her hands over the lean muscle of his calveslegs as she made her way back up his body.

He sucked in his breath again when her fingers curled around him, and she felt the tightening of renewed desire in her own core in response. But she'd meant what she'd said about wanting to memorize every part of him. As she lowered herself to take him in her mouth, she kept her eyes turned, unblinking, to his face. Watched how his mouth opened and his eyes closed as his head fell back on the pillows. The curve of his throat, the bob of it when he swallowed. How the hair started out fair and soft scattered across his chest, but grew darker and coarser as it trailed downward from his navel. He was beautiful. And he was hers. No one else had seen him like this, and the possessive thought made her lust surge.

The first time she’d done this, she’d been amazed and gratified by how willingly Obi-Wan had relinquished control to her, allowing her to direct his pleasure completely, whether she chose to bring it to a swift conclusion or to draw it out in exquisite torture. This time she preferred the latter, moving over his length in slow, meticulous waves, letting her fingers dance in feather-light touches below, until she had to have more. She threaded her arms under his thighs so that he had to bend his knees over her shoulders with his feet planted on the bed, and she dug her fingers into the tops of his thighs as she worked harder and faster.

“Wait,” he breathed. “Wait.”

She lifted her head, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he pushed up on his elbows, his slightly glazed eyes meeting hers.

"This is...lovely," he said, "but…I want all of you."

How could she say no to that? Sabé lost no time slipping out from beneath his legs, lowering herself onto his lap as he sat up, balancing with one arm behind him while the other held her securely around the waist. They groaned together as he filled her, her eyes fluttering closed as she lowered her forehead to his neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and stayed that way as he moved with excruciating delicacy into her, prolonging each thrust until her body ached for him to be more aggressive.

At last Sabé sat upright and looked into his face, pushed the hair out of his eyes, darkened with desire, and kissed him so roughly that their teeth knocked. The growl in his throat matched her winded gasp as he began to pound into her, and she nearly screamed with relief. Now she had to steady herself with hands on his shoulders, and his fingers dug into the meat of her hip to keep her close. The movement was so precise and yet so abandoned that she thought she might pass out in ecstasy.

Although he’d thoroughly undone her moments before, she felt herself beginning to come apart once again. She clung harder to him, with every tendon in her body, it seemed, to keep herself together for as long as he lasted. Again and again he thrust, until she felt that familiar final swell before his control broke, and she let herself go with him. A few hot tears leaked from her eyes before she could stop them, her release complete.

For several moments they panted in unison, lips close together and pressing kisses every few seconds, her fingers in his beard and his arms around her sweaty back, until she realized that her legs shook. Obi-Wan placed a hand on the bed and pivoted to lay her on her back, their bodies still joined as though he could not bear for them to part even that much. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her again and again, but finally he couldn’t disguise the trembling of his arms and let himself roll onto the pillow next to hers.

At once Sabé missed him filling her. She turned onto her side, not minding the wetness between her legs, and draped her arm across him to stop the encroaching sense of loss that turned her chest into a cavern. His heart beat its strong, syncopated rhythm until it evened out, in time with hers.  

"You weren't joking about being a quick study," she said when she could speak again, though her voice sounded a little shakier than she wanted it to.

"I had a good teacher." Obi-Wan bent his head to kiss her hair, and he brought his hand up to hold hers over his heart. "I only wish there was time to become more adept…"

She gripped his hand hard. "Then we'll just have to make good use of what time remains."


	16. Chapter 16

" _Good news for Alderaan!_ " said the newscaster as Obi-Wan watched a holographic image of the Organas hunched over a row of narrow cribs. " _The royal couple recently visited Chaaktil to discuss labor union laws with the planet's leaders. Citizens there face a lower life expectancy due to harsh working and living conditions on the desert planet, which means more orphans in Chaako City's orphanage. But while the Queen and the Prince Consort were there, they fell in love with a baby girl. Looks like Alderaan has an heiress at last!"_

At that, the image switched to one of Breha bouncing an infant in her arms, smiling broadly as she and Bail faced the holocam.

Obi-Wan shifted his gaze to Sabé. Her body language mirrored the Organas' from moments before, leaning forward over the crib as she watched the holo, but she wore a frown.

He snapped a photo.

She blinked and turned to him. "I haven't even brushed my hair yet!"

"Do you think that bothers me?"

"And I'm pretty sure I was scowling just now."

"I adore your scowls. They're always justified."

She smiled, and he snapped another photo. "There. I have one of you smiling. Happier?"

Although Sabé nodded, Obi-Wan saw the flicker of emotion beneath her skin as she turned back to the crib, which corresponded with the twinge behind his ribs. _Happy_ wasn't at all the term for how either of them had felt the last two days, even with this undivided time together while Bail traveled across the galaxy making the arrangements to put their plans for hiding into motion. The inevitable separation was always at the back of their minds in any given moment...or, more often, at the forefront of their thoughts.

 _"Of course the question everybody is asking,"_ the HoloNet reporter went on in his far too enthusiastic voice, _"is what the new little princess of Alderaan will be named..."_

"We know the answer to that, don't we?" said Sabé, leaning further over the crib to tickle Leia's tummy. " _Princess Leia_. Ow!"

Obi-Wan snapped another picture as a small fist clasped around a dangling section of Sabé's disheveled hair.

"That's not very gallant of you, standing there taking pictures instead of rescuing me," Sabé grumbled as she attempted to pry apart the pincer-like grasp of Leia's fingers.

"Isn't it gallant that I trust you to extricate yourself from the clutches of a tyrant? At least a very tiny one?"

He chuckled at the aptness of the description as Sabé got her hair free and Leia howled her displeasure.

"You can't just take things that don't belong to you," Sabé admonished, placing a plush tauntaun in Leia's hand instead. "Luckily, you'll have the wonderful example of Queen Breha and Senator Organa to counter that of our illustrious Emperor."

The scowl returned as she searched the HoloNet for another, less gossip-fueled, transmission. Obi-Wan set down the camera on the low table in front of the visitors' couch and went to stand beside her as she found a report from Theed. _"Elections are underway in Naboo for a new monarch to follow the late Queen Apailana…"_

" _Elections_ ," Sabé scoffed. "They'll be rigged, and the winner will be the Emperor's puppet."

Obi-Wan could only clench his jaw, unable to offer any optimistic counter to this.

_"Stormtroopers have been installed in the capital city of Theed to quell protests about the lack of state funeral for Apailana…"_

A hologram of Palpatine's spokesperson flickered on the screen. _"The Galactic Empire will not condone the celebration of traitors. Had Queen Apailana not been killed in the raid, make no mistake, she would have been tried for treason and executed."_

The report concluded with a weather forecast for Naboo, the newscasters bantering stiffly to each other about fine conditions for high voter turnout. Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not that there was no mention of an investigation into the mysterious deaths at the Marina District apartment complex in Keren. It was all Empire-controlled propaganda now, the newscasters clearly muzzled, afraid that reporting on anything significant would rain down retribution on the network, or their families.

"How quickly things change," Sabé murmured, her hand now absently rubbing Luke's tummy. "We live in a galaxy where everything we thought we knew is wrong."

Obi-Wan looked down at Luke, his clear blue eyes so like Anakin's. A blank page, unblemished. How would his story unfold now? How would Leia's?

"Some will have no choice but to accept the new reality," said Obi-Wan. "But others will join us, and rebel."

He couldn't voice the small hope that any of it would make a difference, so he just smiled at Luke, who reached for his beard. Obi-Wan leaned closer to let him grab it.

"Ow," he whispered, which made Luke grin. "That's good. Hold on tight. Don't let go, strong boy."

He should have been used to the sudden welling of tears in his eyes by now, but every sweet moment with the children assaulted him anew. He blinked the wetness away, keeping his smiling face trained on Luke and Leia, who'd tossed aside her tauntaun and now reached for his beard, growling when she was unable to reach it.

"Wait your turn, princess," he said, even as he uncurled Luke's grasping fingers. "There's only one of me."

The camera clicked, and he turned to see that Sabé had retrieved it and taken a picture of him. Tears glistened in her eyes, too, as she lowered it.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait some time for your turn, Leia," she said, moving between Obi-Wan and the crib and cupping his cheek. He straightened up as her palm scuffed over his beard. "Because he's mine."

Sabé tilted her head for a kiss, and he leaned in to meet the brush of her lips with his own, though doing so made him ache. Not only with the usual awareness of their physical parting, but of his own deficiency as a husband. All she would have of him being a father was three months' memories of him changing nappies and giving bottles, a few photographs of him playing with the twins. He'd be a familiar stranger to his own son.

The voice of the HoloNet reporter droned on in the background, now updating on the progress of the new Imperial palace being built atop the bones of the Jedi Temple.

"Turn that off," said Obi-Wan, crossing to the nursery's transparisteel window. As he looked into the stark hallway he heard the muted static of the holos switching off, then Sabé murmuring to the twins.

He closed his eyes. Reached into the Force for peace.

It was there, behind his heart and under his tongue. As familiar and as invisible as it had always been.

But the peace he wanted was here, now, in this room, with these people.

He had to struggle to keep his eyes closed, to stay in _that_ peace, when he wanted to rush to this one, here, now, with her, and them. He stayed in the Force.

Stayed.

Stayed...and felt them slipping farther away.

The Force pulled him under, immersed him in the peace it had to offer, and he could have happily drowned in it. He was good at drowning. It was easier when one didn't know in which direction the smooth liquid surface waited, that thin membrane separating one existence from another, reflecting the sky, the sunset...

_Tap...tap...tap…_

His eyes flew open at the foreign sound. Beyond his own reflection came a small green figure, stooped over his stick as he tapped his way slowly but steadily down the hall, accompanied by an R2 unit Obi-Wan knew well. Their eyes met through the transparisteel, Yoda's green like a pool slick with algae, undisturbed.

"A transmission I have received from Senator Organa," he said without preamble as the nursery door whooshed open to admit him and the droid.

"That's not…?"

Obi-Wan glanced back at Sabé and saw her staring at the droid with a look of recognition on her face.

"The little droid who saved our lives when we escaped the Trade Federation blockade," he said. "The one you made Padmé clean up."

As Artoo beeped at Sabé, Obi-Wan felt a tug at the corner of his mouth as he pictured her in a black gown that must have doubled her weight, that ridiculous headdress of quivering plumes atop her head, painted red lips not fully concealing her smirk at ording the queen to perform menial tasks.

The droid's memory, of course, would have to be wiped.

"Found a home for you, Senator Organa has, on Tatooine."

Obi-Wan's heart seized like a fist around the thought that _home_ was the Temple on Coruscant, the apartment on Naboo...might have been Rebellion base quarters on Dantooine. He breathed, willed the grasping fingers to uncurl and release the feeling of possessiveness...of attachment.

"Bail's making a tour of the desert planets," Sabé remarked.

"Let's hope the gossip holos haven't taken interest in his latest real estate venture."

"I have, though," Sabé said, coming alongside him as R2's holo projector lit up, displaying a holocam recording of a domed synstone dwelling atop a rocky hillside. "Is that it?"

"Look at the view," Obi-Wan replied. "Dunes, dunes, and more dunes."

"I believe this will suit Obi-Wan's needs," came Bail's disembodied voice. "It's on the southwestern edge of the Dune Sea, 136 kilometers from the Lars homestead."

Obi-Wan's head snapped toward Yoda. "So far from Luke?"

Yoda cast a shrewd glance his way before replying, "Too close you are, even at such distance."

Sabé's pressed lips and steadying inhalation told Obi-Wan that she, too, knew exactly what Yoda meant by that remark.

"How will I protect him?" he persisted. "Not just from the Empire, and Vader, but Tusken raiders-"

"A father's blindness, this attachment has given you. From a life of ease do children grow strong?" Yoda asked with a tap of his cane for emphasis. "Protect them from learning, would you?" Another tap.

"You know that isn't what I-"

"Disappointed would Master Qui-Gon be, to hear such talk. Your own perils he allowed you to navigate."

"He allowed me to be a child first!"

"But your father he was not."

 _He was as good as_. The retort burned against his lips, but he could not speak it.

"To be near for the boy's sake, is it, or your own?"

Now Obi-Wan had to take a breath, for his every impulse was to lash back, _Of course it's for both our sakes!_

But Sabé could no longer hold her tongue. "What's so wrong about Obi-Wan wanting to be there for Luke? He's the only father that boy has ever known. How can a child be _too_ loved?"

"Love him, the boy's uncle and aunt will," Yoda replied, hands curling tighter over the knob of his stick. He peered up at Obi-Wan. "Tried to make this easier for you," he went on, gruffly-but not unkindly, Obi-Wan thought, however indignant it made Sabé, "but that the Jedi keep his distance, Owen and Beru requested. Believe that wrong we were to take young Anakin from Tatooine. That alive he still would be had we not."

"Well, that is probably true," Obi-Wan replied, the words rough in his throat. He passed a hand across his brow, closed his eyes as he massaged his forehead between his fingers, too-long hair falling over it. "Forgive my outburst, Master. It's only that every time I think I find some hope to hold onto…"

It eroded from beneath his fingers. Like the sandswept hills on which his hermitage stood.

Sabé's hand found its way into his, but her skin felt brittle, as if it, too, would break apart and scatter on the breeze if he clung too tightly to it. He reached out for the invisible hand that had always been there for him.

"The Larses are correct," Obi-Wan said once he'd grasped it. "It wouldn't do for them to share Queen Apailana's fate. I...will find a way to keep an eye on Luke. The Force never fails."

Yoda grunted his agreement. Gesturing for Artoo to follow, he shuffled from the nursery, leaving Obi-Wan and Sabé to stare at each other over the crib.

A gurgle from Luke drew his attention. The droid had disconnected all the tubes and wires this morning, proclaiming the twins recovered from whatever Astor Ren had done, and now they both kicked and flailed happily. Sweeping his gaze around the spartan space, he made a decision.

"Come on, lad," he said, scooping up the boy. Sabé grabbed the camera and Leia and followed suit, trailing him down the long, silent hallway to their quarters.

Once inside with the door shut, they deposited the twins on the bed for "tummy time," to strengthen their back and neck muscles. When they were settled, Obi-Wan kicked off his boots and stretched out on his side, propped up on an elbow with his head at the foot of the bed. Sabé mirrored him as she leaned on the pillows at the head.

Before long the coverlet had spots of baby drool where Luke and Leia's heads kept dropping down when they tired of holding them as they pushed upward on their chubby little arms. Sabé kept murmuring words of encouragement, and Obi-Wan cheered quietly whenever one or the other managed to hold the position for more than a few seconds.

Finally Leia tipped her head to the side and flopped over onto her back. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Then she opened her mouth and wailed.

Sabé rubbed Leia's belly, but Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh. "You didn't quite authorize that shift in perspective, did you, princess?" He poked Luke in the side. "You've got some catching up to do, young one."

Luke grunted and dropped his head onto the bed, his whine muffled by the coverlet in his mouth. Chuckling again, Obi-Wan rolled the baby onto his back. Sabé, meanwhile, had put Leia on her tummy again and reached for the camera, poised to capture the moment for posterity should Leia have a repeat performance. Apparently motivated by disgruntlement at being on her belly again, she flipped herself back over with a growl that turned into a gummy smile just in time for the camera when she saw she did have some say in matters, after all.

"Is that…?" Sabé lowered the camera and leaned over Leia to inspect her more closely.

"What's wrong?" asked Obi-Wan, pushing himself upright but keeping his legs stretched out along the length of the bed, though Luke's rolling off seemed highly unlikely.

Sabé popped a finger into Leia's mouth and felt around. "She's cut a tooth!"

"Really? Let me see."

He leaned over Leia, tugging her chin down gently with a thumb.

"Well, my stars. Look at that."

A white sliver had appeared in her lower gumline like newfallen snow atop a mountain range. He touched it with a finger; its edge was sharper than it looked.

Even sharper when she bit down. He hissed as he extricated his finger.

"Believe me now?" chuckled Sabé.

"Quite," he said, sucking on the injured fingertip. "It appears your first task as governess will be to teach Her Royal Highness not to bite the people who love her."

Sabé didn't reply. Her smile faded as she lay down again, arm curling around her pillow. After a moment, Obi-Wan heard her sniffle into it. A lump formed in his own throat, preventing him from speaking any words of comfort to her. If there even were any. What was there to say to so many shattered dreams?

Letting the thoughts go with an exhale, he rose from the bed, scooped a baby into each arm, and carried them across the room to where the hoverpram still stood by the door surrounded by their bags and discarded clothing. He stepped over the clutter, thought fleetingly of their constant war against untidiness in the flat, which they had apparently given up on entirely here. Luke and Leia were rubbing their eyes as he placed them into their pram, worn out from the effort of holding their heads up. They rolled towards each other as he covered them with a little knitted blanket, forehead to forehead, pinkies clasped. The image of their perfection blurred, and Obi-Wan had to grab the handle of the pram to support himself as a wave of grief rolled over him. He felt the sand shift beneath his feet and drag him under.

He reached again into the Force, toward that sweet peace, the only salve he would have during his lonely time on Tatooine, and it swaddled him, soothed him. It could rock him to sleep, if he'd only let it. But the twins slept beneath his hands, and Sabé cried behind him, and he could feel them drifting away the longer he stayed in the invisible arms of the Force.

He needed Sabé's arms. And she needed his.

Opening his eyes, he cast a lingering look at the sleeping babies, then strode briskly to the bed, where he lay next to his wife and crushed her to him. She cried into his chest, and his own tears dampened the pillow under his cheek. As their tears waned, a strange fatigue settled upon them like a cloud, so that all they could do was cling to each other limply. Like the waves of the ocean, Obi-Wan reflected, it seemed that grief had an ebb and flow to it.

They slept.

When he awoke, he sat up in a panic, thinking that the entire night must have passed, that in minutes they'd have to board the starships that would bear them off to their separate lives. But when he looked at the holochron, only three-quarters of an hour had slipped by.

How precious three-quarters of an hour now seemed to him. And how infinite it would be when Sabé was no longer at his side.

She was still asleep, lashes dark against her skin, streaks of dried tears still shining on her cheek, but Obi-Wan woke her before he could think twice about whether he should. He shook her shoulder, murmured her name, and her eyes flew open. And then her lips were on his and he was tugging down her leggings and underwear. She got one leg out and threw it over his hip as he unfastened his own trousers and buried himself in her.

 _She is mine_ , his heart shouted against the roar of the Force which built and billowed like a tidal wave. _You cannot take her from me_. He pressed her body tight against his, swept his tongue past her lips and teeth, thrust as deeply into her as he could, her moans soft beneath the swell of the sea that tried to pull him back. _I am hers. I cannot be taken from her._ That was what the High Priestess of Requiescence had bid them, wasn't it? _Do not go from her._ That was their pledge on the steps of the Temple of Varum. How could the Force ask him to break his vows?

 _Are you not the Force's?_ asked the Force. _Is the Force not yours? What of your Jedi vows?_

He went still inside her, lay unmoving in the circle of Sabé's arms and thighs. His spirit felt detached from his body, drawn to the eternal whisper.

_Emotion, yet peace._

_Ignorance, yet knowledge._

_Passion, yet serenity._

_Chaos, yet harmony._

_Death, yet the Force._

"Obi-Wan," said Sabé, eyes wet but lips wearing an ironic little smile. "You're not here. You need to go meditate."

Her leg started to move from his hip, but he held it in place, ground his hips against hers. "No," he said. "No, I want to stay with you."

As though in agreement, her body met his and they moved together. There was a certain desperation in how they clung, how they crashed into each other, leaving bruises on each other's lips and hips, but he didn't care. He wanted his bruises to show. They would be all he'd have left soon enough.

Only when he felt her tightening around him, her fingernails digging into the backs of his thighs, did he allow himself to spill into her, shuddering with each thrust. Sweat dripped from the hanging tendrils of his hair onto her forehead, and he kissed it away, tasting his own salt before capturing her mouth again.

When the kiss finally ended and she leaned back in his arms, an expectant look in her eyes, Obi-Wan pushed a fallen strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and said, quietly, "Meditate with me."

The pillow rustled beneath her head as she nodded. "Yes. But...do you think if we meditate in different places, you'd be able to find me?

He didn't know. But the hope that he might gave him the impetus to disentangle his limbs from hers and get out of bed.

They quickly put their clothing to rights and agreed that Sabé would be the one to leave the room to find a spot as far as she could from them, in case the sleeping twins amplified her presence in the Force. As it was, Obi-Wan wondered if the baby she carried might do the same; but she'd be with their son on Alderaan anyhow. It might be that he'd need the assistance of Leia and the boy to find Sabé at such a distance.

The door whooshed shut behind her, and he sat cross-legged on the bed, closing his eyes and resting his hands palm up on his knees, as they'd done together so many times in their apartment in Keren. Sweat still trickled down his his neck and back, and her scent covered him. As he exhaled, he felt the small smile he hadn't even known he wore drop away.

Minutes passed. She might still be searching for a place in which to sit and meditate. He waited. Dropped deeper into the Force. Breathed. Waited.

And waited.

He imagined Sabé in Alderaan, waiting for him to come to her as he'd promised he would. But instead of the gleaming spires of the Organa ancestral home nestled among the alpine peaks, the Force carried him over the ocean to a small green mountain rising from the waves. Although he was sure he'd never set foot upon the broken stone steps that led up, up, he felt he knew this place. That somehow, he was returning home.

A man stood near the edge of a cliff. He wore Jedi robes, and when his mismatched hands drew back his hood Obi-Wan saw a grizzled mane of grey hair, and a beard, and piercing blue eyes. He thought for a moment he was looking at himself, but it wasn't him. He shifted to follow the man's gaze and saw a young woman, scared but determined, offering him...no, it couldn't be Anakin's saber, could it? _Focus on the woman_. Her dark hair was pulled back in three buns, but it wasn't Sabé. Beyond the two figures, at last, stood Sabé, clothed in the hues of a sunset sky, and when he found her, she saw him, too.

"There you are," he said, as her voice echoed to him, "Here I am." They moved toward one another, and there was nothing in between them, no grizzled old man, no young woman, just their hands reaching across the expanse of the galaxy until they met. Not a touch, more like a breath. He'd waited, and she had come.

It was as though he was nowhere now, and yet he felt securely with her. He could no longer see her, but that didn't matter. She was beside him, inside him, everywhere. He wanted to ask her a question, but _I'm here_ was all he could say, _I'm here_ her response.

Then there was another voice, and he wondered if the old man had returned to chastise them for intruding on his seclusion; but it was only Luke, crying.

For a few moments, Obi-Wan tried to hold onto the feeling of _here_ , with Sabé; but Luke persisted, and now Leia joined in with a wail.

He unfolded himself from the bed and went to them, tucking each into an elbow before returning to sit against the pillows. It wouldn't be long before carrying both babies at once would be impossible, but for now, they still fit in the crooks of his arms.

They probably needed a feeding, but he wanted to wait until Sabé returned. Kissing each of their downy heads in turn, he tried to remember the words to the song about the brave handmaiden and the cursed prince. He started to hum the tune, and as the babies quieted, the words came to him.

" _We'll go to the mountain and sing out together_

_We'll go to the desert and stand against darkness._

_Never fear, my love, I'll carry you_

_And when I'm weak, you'll carry me."_

It was the first time he'd calmed the children at feeding time without a bottle, and again his eyes welled up. He tried to sing another verse, but his tight throat prevented it.

The door flew open, and there stood Sabé wearing a broad grin, cheeks flushed as though she'd run here from a distance.

"I saw you!"

Blinking away his tears, Obi-Wan smiled over the children's heads. "What a coincidence. I saw you, too."

"And I felt you," she panted, almost tripping over her feet in her haste to get to the bedside. "Did you feel me?"

"Around me and through me."

She huffed out a laugh. "I felt that, too. Did you see anything else?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, unsure how to explain his vision, not knowing what she'd seen.

"Wait a minute," Sabé said, and picked up the camera which still lay at the foot of the bed. "Smile."

He didn't have to force one for the picture she took of him with Luke and Leia in his arms. And not a moment too soon, for they both began to fuss again. She placed the camera on the bedside table and took Luke from Obi-Wan, and as they made their way to the nursery they resumed their conversation.

"I didn't see much when I meditated."

Sabé carried Luke facing forward, one arm tucked under his plump legs and one across his torso, so that the baby could see where he was going, and that provided enough distraction that he forgot to cry for the duration of their walk. Leia seemed content to look behind them, over Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"It felt like we were outside somewhere. It seemed...green, and cool, and...empty." Sabé's brow furrowed. "Maybe not empty. I'm not sure. Then I saw a flicker of you, and when I ran to you, you disappeared from sight. But I _felt_ you. It's like I knew you were with me."

"That is how it seemed to me," he agreed, patting Leia's back.

"So you didn't see anything?"

"I saw…" He wasn't certain what he'd seen, or what bearing it had on anything. And he wanted to focus on his little family in the time they had left. "I thought I saw myself at a ripe old age. And a young woman who might have been you, but eternally young."

Sabé laughed. "The Force is so romantic."

"Hmm. It keeps a Jedi in his place, you mean." He slung his free arm over her shoulders and planted a kiss on her temple. "Sometimes I think I was born that old."

"You weren't," she said. "I saw you, remember?" Now it was she who kissed him as they walked, letting her lips and nose and cheek rub against his beard before she drew back, eyes twinkling. The twin suns of Tatooine could never fill him wish such warmth. "Have I told you I think your beard makes you look very handsome?"

" _Now_ you decide to flatter me," he said, squeezing her shoulder, and their mingled laughter echoed in the stark silent corridor.

The bottles were ready and waiting when they reached the nursery, and Luke and Leia took them in record time, during which Obi-Wan and Sabé realized they were hungry, too, the first real appetite either of them had since they fled Naboo.

"Well, we have had rather a lot of physical exertion," she said, giving him a sly look as she burped Luke.

"We'd best fuel ourselves for more," Obi-Wan replied.

The droid, in its smooth metallic tones, informed them that there was an exercise facility down the east corridor should they wish to make use of it. They barely squelched their laughter until they were in the hallway again, making their way to the canteen for lunch. As Luke and Leia had fallen into what Sabé termed a _milk coma_ and would likely be asleep for the next several hours, they felt little guilt about leaving them to nap under the observation of the medical droid.

The lunch room was little more than an automat that dispensed vaguely food-shaped protein slabs. Sabé went for the green one ("At least it's the color of a vegetable"), while Obi-Wan chose the purple ("I'm feeling adventurous"). The caf, thank the stars, was real.

Nibbling while they sat at a stainless steel table, Sabé remarked, "You do realize this is kind of our first date without the children."

"What about the Shaky Shaak?"

"Ah, yes. How could I forget?"

"You always take me to the nicest places." Obi-Wan grinned and Sabé burst out laughing.

"Your teeth," she gasped, pointing with her protein slab, "are purple!"

"And yours are green," he replied, "but I'm too gentlemanly to point such things out."

At this they both collapsed in a fit of giggles and promised to clean their teeth posthaste.

The food, such as it was, did satisfy their hunger and restore their flagging energy. Obi-Wan thought longingly of the fish market a stone's throw from their little apartment in Keren, and his favorite dish of poached Doo topped with lemon sauce. What would there be to eat in Tatooine? The house Bail had found for him was over a hundred kilometers from the Lars farm. How far was it from anywhere else?

The one thing he knew for certain about Tatooine was that he did _not_ want to think about it right now. _Don't be mindful of the future at the expense of the present_ , Qui-Gon had always said. So Obi-Wan released the unwelcome thoughts and smiled at the green-toothed but nevertheless lovely woman he still had the better part of a day with.

After another cup of caf each, which eliminated the dental hygiene issue, they rose from the table and carried their trays to the disposal by the dispensers.

"What should we do next on our date?" Obi-Wan asked as they exited the room, passing one of the Polis Massan hospital staff on her way in. "Our options are rather limited."

"Why, asteroid gaze, of course," Sabé replied, lacing her fingers together through his.

Hand in hand, they wandered the maze of identical hallways until they found a dark observation deck with a wide transparisteel viewport. A long, white duraplast bench occupied the center of the room, and they sat.

The asteroids looked small from here, though Obi-Wan knew most of them were massive enough to park a star cruiser on. Drifting randomly, they made a delicate, pale stripe across the velvety black sky.

"It feels like nighttime," he said.

"But it's not," she said quickly, grasping his hand and turning to face him. "It's not yet."

"I should have kissed you on Tatooine, watching the syzygy. Then we'd have had more time."

She drew his hand to her lips and kissed it. "I thought the Force never failed."

 _No_ , he thought, _but people do_.

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed. "I might not have been ready for you then."

"And I might have scared you off."

"Oh, I was scared of you." He smiled at her low chuckle. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"You mean it wasn't my plumage? Or those...structural gowns?" She shuddered.

"I'll admit, I'm baffled as to how I would have got you out of one of those."

"I'm sure that was rather the idea." Her eyebrow rose. "But then the Jedi wrap themselves up pretty tightly, too, don't they?"

"Point taken," he grinned.

They settled against each other to watch the band of asteroids against the starry sky, and Obi-Wan's thoughts drifted, memories turning slowly end over end, morphing the rock formations into clouds hovering in an azure sky...stone statues fallen on the forest floor...Qui-Gon, stretched out on the grass laughing at his _tightly wrapped up_ Padawan.

"Oh for kriff's sake," Obi-Wan muttered, taking Sabé in his arms and leaning into her, "I should be kissing you now."

He just glimpsed the expression of delight on her face before her arms went around his neck and he covered her mouth with his own.

A few sweaty minutes later, he was glad for the sustenance they'd consumed at the canteen, as well as for the blessed privacy of the dark but very public space in which they'd divested certain items of clothing for her to crawl onto his lap on the bench. They now lay on the floor, panting, side by side on their backs with their heads near the viewport so that they looked upside down through it, though in all honesty the view wasn't much different from here.

"I don't usually go that far on first dates," Sabé said.

"Neither do I."

Obi-Wan turned his head toward her with an eyebrow hitched, and they stared at each other for a moment before she snorted, nose scrunching up in the way he loved. He slid his arm beneath her neck, drawing her against him to pillow her head on his shoulder, and to feel the warmth of her body at his side, for the floor was cold and hard beneath them.

"Does it help to think of it as a honeymoon instead of a first date?" he asked.

During the long pause that followed he began to regret the question, for his eyes stung and Sabé's body shook silently against his.

But then she said, through a voice thick with tears, "Yes. It does. Although this wouldn't have been my first choice of honeymoon destination."

A deep sigh shuddered through him as he held her tighter. "What would've been?"

There was so much he'd never asked her. Or told her. He'd thought they had all the time in the world.

Sabé propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and mustered a smile. "I would've let you pick, since you don't think I take you to nice places."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I'm afraid my choices might seem boring to you. I prefer libraries and musty old archives. Digital data and desiccated artifacts. Hardly romantic by any stretch of the imagination."

"Oh, I can imagine quite a bit."

"You won't rest until my corruption is complete, will you?"

She shook her head, mischief dancing in her eyes.

"All right, then," he conceded. "It might sound silly, but...Do you remember telling me about a planet with a lunar syzygy? The Lovers' Embrace."

A look of wonder flitted across her features. "Elrood. You remembered."

"I remember everything you said."

"I felt like I was babbling," she confessed.

"The babbling was mine alone," he insisted. "Can you believe it? That was before-"

He swallowed. Before he lost one world, and gained another, only to lose that one, too.

"That's a perfect place," she said. "Although they have the Lovers' Quarrel, too."

"Oh, but we've never quarrelled."

Tendrils of hair he'd pulled loose during their encounter tickled his face as she leaned down to kiss his throat, then an upward path along his neck to his jaw, lingering at his earlobe. She settled into his arms again and told him about the sacred ch'hala tree grove on Cularin, which she'd read about and always wanted to visit. As it turned out, Obi-Wan had been there, on a mission, so he recalled what he could for her. They both reminisced about the Gungan Sacred Place, where they'd rested and taken nourishment before the Battle of Naboo. Their conversation continued in this vein, one stream of thought meandering into another...Places they'd been, people they'd met, friends found and lost...Uninterrupted by anyone or anything except each other's kisses and caresses...Questions asked and answers given, knowledge gained that still did not begin to plumb the depths of the woman in his arms…

Even if he had an entire lifetime with her, he realized, it would never be enough.

At last they could no longer stand the hardness of the floor and picked themselves stiffly up from it, stretching backs and rolling shoulders. Musing that perhaps they could find massage oil in the 'fresher cabinet, or at least loosen their cramped muscles with a hot shower, they started back to their quarters, still talking the whole way there.

As they rounded the corner to the hallway leading toward the nursery, where they intended to check on the children, Obi-Wan sensed Yoda's presence nearby. A moment later, the little master appeared at the opposite end of the corridor, tapping his way toward them as though he had something to say.

Obi-Wan felt Sabé tense at his side. "You go on in," he said, pressing her toward the nursery door. "I'll see what he wants."

She passed Yoda with a curt greeting and disappeared through the sliding door.

"More at peace you seem, Master Obi-Wan, since we conversed this morning."

Sabé had that effect on him, he nearly said. Instead he replied, "I had a nap, and an interesting purple protein snack."

"Mm. The orange, I tried."

"And I meditated."

Yoda _hmm_ ed again, the wizened features curving into a pleased expression, though his hands clutched the end of his staff tighter. "Good," he said, and Obi-Wan decided not to mention his experiment with Sabé. "Right it is, to remember the Jedi way. A report I have from Senator Organa. To Alderaan he will take Queen Breha, then travel here he will. Depart with the girl, he intends, first thing in the morning."

Although Obi-Wan tried to draw breath, no air filled his lungs. Instead they seemed to collapse and his heart contracted painfully, as though all his grief were being pounded into a smaller, denser shape, like dark matter, undetectable by outsiders, but there nevertheless. The walls of reality were closing in on him, where only moments before, gazing up through the transparisteel viewport, the whole galaxy had stretched out around him. He called for peace, only to find himself trying to shield his thoughts from Yoda. But he didn't succeed in that, either, the green eyes narrowing.

"Too prolonged this parting is. Fearful you have become of being alone."

"I have never _been_ alone," Obi-Wan replied. There had been Yoda and the Masters in the crèche ...the other younglings...Qui-Gon and Anakin...and then, Leia and Luke and Sabé. Always, there had been someone.

 _He_ had been someone.

For a long moment Yoda gazed up at him. "Communing, I have been. With one who has discovered how to defy the will of the Force."

Obi-Wan gaped, not understanding.

Yoda gave a rattling chuckle. "Think of anyone, can you, with such audacity?"

The walls around Obi-Wan's heart expanded, slightly. "Qui-Gon. How?"

"Train you, I will, in your solitude. Alone, the Force will not leave you."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, feeling dazed. For all the times he'd yearned for his former Master's advice, he couldn't help thinking it was too late now. And yet his heart leapt at the thought of communing with him again.

Being so far from Luke and the Larses, it seemed he'd have little else to do on Tatooine.

Without realizing it he'd turned toward the nursery door, until Yoda glanced at it with a sniff.

"Something I have for you," he said, uncurling one clawed hand from his stick to reach into his robes. "Keep it safe, you should, until the boy comes of age."

Obi-Wan would have been more surprised by what Yoda drew out from the folds of his robes if he hadn't seen it earlier when he meditated: Anakin's lightsaber. A close copy of his own, save for the darkness that still clung to it. He could hear the roar of the Kyber crystal, an echo of the emotion that Anakin had never been able to fully release.

"Luke's it is, by rights."

 _What about Leia's right?_ Obi-Wan wanted to ask, but could not. Anyway, why should either of them want that accursed thing? Was that why the grizzled man wept? Did he know what evil deeds that blade had committed?

Was the old man...Luke? He felt the tug of the vision again, but brought himself back to the present.

Although the saber was not ignited, Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's lingering Force signature as he took it from Yoda, the spikes of rage and hatred with which he'd wielded it against him in that final battle as audible as so many screams. Without further comment, Yoda shuffled on his way, the taps of his cane growing softer when he rounded the next corner.

For a moment after the little Master had disappeared, Obi-Wan looked at the end of the empty corridor, then back at the nursery windows. Through them he could see Sabé leaning over the twins as she played a tickling game, letting her fingers creep up their torsos like buzz worms and then tapping at their lips as though wishing to be eaten.

He'd had this feeling before, of being in two places at once, and it was a heady sensation to fall deeply into one or the other. He knew exactly where he wanted to be right now, and with whom, so he tucked the saber into his belt, putting away the emotions it had stirred in him, as well, and entered the nursery.

When Sabé paused tickling the babies to ask what Yoda had wanted, Obi-Wan told her briefly. To his relief, a simple explanation was enough for her, even seemed to give her some comfort about his situation, for all he wanted was to fall headlong into the sweetness of the little family that had blessed his life so completely. He made no mention at all of the lightsaber, nor did Sabé even though she noticed it in his belt. Indeed, he put it from his mind entirely as he came alongside his wife, one hand resting over her stomach as he kissed her long and slow, until the children expressed their displeasure at being ignored and he turned from her to make his fingers dance over chubby bellies and chins until the nursery was filled with the husky laughter of babies.

They played until Luke and Leia demanded their bottles, and again afterward, until their movements became uncoordinated and their eyelids drooped.

Together they sneaked out of the nursery to their quarters, and when they entered he saw Sabé's gaze fall on the scattered clothing and packs they'd tossed to the floor.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I agree. Let's do this now."

Shooting a grateful look at him, they silently gathered and folded the discarded clothing, packing it away into the separate packs they'd carry with them to Alderaan and Tatooine. It was as grim a moment as he could have imagined, but at least Sabé was beside him, bearing her own burdens with pursed lips. Her beaded bridal cap had been left in his bag after the wedding, and with trembling hands she wrapped it in a soft tunic for safekeeping, and transferred it to the top of one of her own packs. Soon the small room was neat once more, all evidence of their life as a couple stowed securely into zipped canvas bags.

As Obi-Wan moved one pack to the corner next to the door, he heard a _clink_. Unzipping it again, he rummaged at the bottom, felt something hard and sharp, and when he pulled it out he couldn't speak.

The goddess of safety. Well, half of her. He barely remembered scooping up the shards on his way out of the demolished apartment.

Looking up to comment on it to Sabé, he found that she'd slipped into the 'fresher and now called to him to join her if he wished.

He would, in a moment. Just now, however, something else required his attention.

Placing the pieces of the figurine on the desk, empty except for the two plants he'd rescued, he seated himself on the hard chair. Taking the larger part of the goddess in hand, he fitted one of the fragments back where it belonged and called upon the Force to join them back together. As he worked, he was vaguely aware of the light scuff of Sabé's bare soles on the tiles, the playful lilt of her voice asking what could possibly be more important than showering with her, then her presence at his shoulder, bewildered. Sensing his need for concentration, she stood by quietly until he finished and turned to her-surprised, and pleasantly so, to see her wrapped in a towel-and offered her the mended goddess.

"Good as new," he said with a smile.

"Thank you," Sabé said, cradling the statue reverently in both hands for a moment before offering it back. "Now you can take her to Tatooine with you."

Unexpected emotion rushed up from his heart and stifled his speech. "But she's yours…You have so few of your belongings…"

"And you have even less," she said. "I'll have my blaster at my side, but I'll feel better about you being in the middle of the desert if she's there to watch over you."

Obi-Wan had no choice but to accept her gift. "I'll treasure her."

He stood the goddess between the wish plant and the cactus, to keep watch through the night, and then rose from his seat.

"And now, my love, you have my undivided attention…"

"I hope so, because watching you use the Force like that did things to me."

His cheeks flushed as his chest warmed with pride. He still hadn't grown accustomed to the feeling of impressing her, but he had to admit he enjoyed it, Jedi or not. "Really?"

"Really," she said, sidling up to him.

"Tell me more." After all, so few opportunities remained now for him to dazzle his wife, while he would have all the time in the world to tame his pride later.

She placed her hands on his chest. "Perhaps I could show you."

"I thought you were about to take a shower."

"Might as well be thoroughly filthy beforehand. Because you know I hate doing things twice."

"We've done this twice already," he pointed out, even as he placed his hands on her hips to hoist her up onto the desk.

"But not the same way." Sabé let her towel fall.

Obi-Wan huffed appreciatively when she leaned back, supporting herself on her hands, to spread her legs and place one foot at the front of his shoulder. He wrapped his hand around it, kissing the top of her foot and ankle before lunging in for her mouth. She leaned into him and reached down for the fastening of his trousers, but he stayed her hand.

"Won't you be sore?"

"Shut up, husband." And she kissed him again, resuming her unfastening.

He didn't have to be told again. Stepping out of his boots and trousers, he swiftly removed his tunic and undershirt so that he could feel her against his skin. As he slid into her he groaned at her heat and wetness, so ready for him.

Sabé leaned back again to steady herself with hands on the desk, one foot braced against the chair and the other still pressing into his shoulder. She was open to him, completely, not only with her body but in the desire that glimmered darkly in her eyes as he thrust into her. He let his hand drift downward and found her sex with his thumb, smiling as her eyelids fluttered closed with a moan of pleasure. It never ceased to amaze him that he could do this for her, that his own pleasure in the act of love was enhanced by hers. Spurred on by the thought, he released Sabé's ankle, grasped her by the hips while her knees pressed into his sides as he drove into her. Her lips left his as her head fell back, thumping lightly against the wall in the same rhythm with the desk as it rocked beneath them. _Will it hold?_ he wondered, only to be distracted by the heat of her mouth on his, the friction of their tongues sliding together.

 _Clink_.

He cracked an eye and saw that the newly repaired goddess of safety had toppled over and half of her dangled precariously off the edge of the desk. Releasing Sabé's hip, he swept out his hand and stopped it with the Force just as it went over. While it hovered mid-air, he quirked an eyebrow at Sabé, who watched, glassy-eyed and biting her lower lip.

"You know how I hate to do things twice," he said, and levitated it to the safety of his bag in the corner.

Sabé's hands caught his face, dragging him back to her, bumping noses. "See?" she mumbled against his lips. "Doing things to me."

Obi-Wan _hmm_ ed. What she'd said was certainly doing things to _him_ and he'd better slow down, but Sabé had other ideas. As though to prove to him what sorts of things he was indeed doing to her, her back broke out in a sweat, and his own body flushed in heightened arousal. He thrust harder, faster, moving his thumb in the little circles she loved so well.

When her body surrendered, she bit into his shoulder, whimpering as she contracted again and again around him. "Harder," he commanded, and he spun out of control as she sank her teeth deeper into him, seeing stars while he lost himself inside her.

For several minutes he remained slumped against her shoulder, watching the fine hairs at the base of her neck rise as his breath huffed against it, listening to her pant to catch hers. When his legs had stopped trembling enough to support his weight, he stepped back from her and held out his hand to help her off the desk.

"Ready for that shower now?"

Sabé nodded, her head lolling lazily, as if all her muscles were slack. Although she placed her hand in his and scooted to the edge of the desk, she said, "I don't know if I can stand."

His heart lurched. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but you seemed to have turned me to jelly. Most impressive."

"Then allow me." Obi-Wan stooped to slip one arm under her knees, the other beneath her arms, and swept her up into his arms. "I never got to carry my bride across the threshold. The threshold of the 'fresher will have to do."

Her laughter echoed against the tiled walls as he deposited her on solid ground once more. After such gymnastics-had they really made love three times today?-it wasn't long before the heat and steam of the shower had them feeling lightheaded. They scrubbed quickly, anxious to throw on some clothes and lie down again.

When they'd dressed and reclined together on the bed, Obi-Wan's hand automatically went to Sabé's abdomen. He felt the pull of sleep again and he turned his head into her cheek, blinking to stay awake, for he didn't want to miss another second of his remaining time with her. He felt her shift a bit, then her hand crept up to caress his cheek and beard.

He heard a click. She must have taken another photograph, perhaps holding the camera above them to capture the moment. He nearly asked to see a preview of the image, then decided against it; a surprise or two would be most welcome on Tatooine. He wanted to inhabit _this_ moment entirely, not the one that had just passed. So he lay still and silent, breathing in the scent of her that lingered beneath the layer of antiseptic soap and shampoo, committing it to memory.

The rise and fall of Sabé's chest had a hypnotic effect. Obi-Wan thought she'd fallen asleep, her breathing came so deep and even, and he let himself be lured nearer to it himself, for he'd be doing it with her.

"Can you feel him?" her voice slipped into his awareness, and he cracked open eyes he hadn't realized were shut.

"What?" He blinked in sleepy confusion, then leaned back from her so he could see her face, which she'd turned toward him on her pillow. Her hand covered his on her abdomen, skin warm but the metal of her wedding band cold. "Feel the baby? Why, can you? I thought the book said that wouldn't be for some time yet…"

"In the Force." Her thumb stroked his knuckles.

Obi-Wan started to tell her _no_ , only to realize he hadn't thought to try to feel their son. What if he could? The thought pierced him with its sweetness.

Closing his eyes, he spread his fingers across her womb, reached into the Force for a connection…

And there it was. The brush of a presence. _I'm here_ , it seemed to say, though not in words, and then it asked, _Who's there? Who are you?_

Joy welled in Obi-Wan's throat, bubbling out in a laugh. _Someone who loves you_ , he answered.

A heartbeat. The rapid blip he'd seen on the ultrasound. _Father?_ Only it could have been _Mother_ , or _Maker_ , or _Force_ ; it was all one. His son felt him and knew him.

The answer ached too much. He withdrew, and found himself looking into Sabé's dark, shining eyes.

"What did you feel?" she asked. "Did you...sense anything about him?"

Obi-Wan considered his answer. "He will be full of questions, our little lad. He's blessed to have a mother who's as wise as she is beautiful."

She smiled, but her eyes were sad as she rolled onto her side, took his hand and kissed it, then clasped it to her chest. "What do you want him to know?"

He grew quiet as the thought of being absent from his son's life tore through him again. Sabé would indeed have to answer the boy's questions, be both mother and father to him.

"You know me better than anyone," he said. "Just be honest, and he will, too."

"And you'll see him," she said, her voice firm even as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "We'll make sure of it."

"The two of you-" But his voice caught. He wanted to say, _You'll be my beacon, my twin suns. I'll always know the way home. I have only to follow your light._

Sabé nodded quickly, pressing her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to spill once more. "I know," she said. "I know."

They lay clinging to each other until the latest swell in their storm of grief subsided. After that, time passed in a blur. The grey walls and ceiling of the quarters were too confining, so they left, though returning to the nursery where the twins slept on brought no sense of freedom, either.

It was the waiting. The building dread of the inevitable. Perhaps Yoda did have a point about it being too prolonged. Yet if presented with the opportunity to leave now, Obi-Wan knew he wouldn't take it.

Bail returned to Polis Massa, bringing proper food, including a bottle of ruge liqueur from his personal stores, which he sent them off to enjoy in private with the admonishment not to worry about being sociable to him. "The twins will keep me company," he said.

Obi-Wan wished he could tease Sabé about their second date being a big improvement over the first, but he was in no mood to make jokes, and she seemed in no mood to hear them. Just as neither of them could appreciate the ambiance of another observation deck with tables and chairs they'd found to take their dinner. For all they'd talked the afternoon away, they spoke little now, and ate less.

"I feel like a condemned prisoner having my last meal," said Sabé, voicing his own thoughts.

"Should we return to our cell?"

A smile ghosted her pale face. "At least it's conjugal."

When they scuffed in and he locked the door behind them, he almost wished the base _were_ a prison from which they couldn't escape. There would be the cold comfort of all serving their time _together_.

In silence, they kicked off their boots. Obi-Wan stared for a long time at the packs of clothing, wondering which one he'd stuffed his sleep garments into, when the creak of bedsprings told him that Sabé had crawled into bed fully clothed. Robotically, he turned and joined her, slipping under the coverlet and scooting over to her warmth at once.

Foreheads together, their arms and legs entangled just as they had night after night, until this night. But sleep wouldn't come, nor would their eyes close. They kept looking at each other, committing every detail of the other's face to memory, fingers stroking over cheeks, lips touching chins and eyelids, inhaling each other's scents as they breathed the same air back and forth.

Despite the heaviness of impending loss, or perhaps because of it, their skin still sang for each other's touch. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were pulling at the tie of her tunic, lips feathering kisses along her collarbones as he eased it off her shoulders, shifting beneath the sheets so he could shed his own clothes as Sabé worked the fastenings with the same slow deliberation until there was only her flesh against his, his body buried in hers. For some time they were content to lay joined together, kissing with long sweeps of tongues. When he did begin to move, he maintained the languorous pace. There was no need to rush, no urgency, although so few hours remained to them. As if he believed that by slowing himself, time would, too. Her climax was a soft sigh, a slackening in his arms, and he spent himself in her, and slept.

He dreamed they made love again, or perhaps they did. He thought he woke to find Sabé above him, her tears dripping on his face and his own sobbed question echoing in his ears: _How will I bear it?_

They drifted off and awakened more times than he could count, drowsy caresses and kisses soothing them back into their dreamless sleeps like infants. Obi-Wan could almost fool himself into believing that, in this eternal darkness, time had stopped for them. Only the ever-advancing numbers from the blue glow of the chrono convinced him otherwise.

Opening his eyes a crack, he saw the silhouette of Sabé's torso as she sat upright on the side of the bed, head bowed and arms akimbo as though she had to gather the strength to stand. His hand flew out, pressed into her lower back.

"It can't be morning yet," he said, though the chrono defied him in this, too. "It's still dark."

Her profile turned toward him. "It's always dark on Polis Massa."

Obi-Wan's mouth curved faintly upward at that, and at her getting out of bed with her usual resolve to greet the day no matter how much she wished it were still night. The absolute quiet of the room was strange. Usually it was the noisy demands of the twins for fresh diapers and breakfast that motivated them to get up. A guilty feeling crept over him that they'd left Luke and Leia in the nursery on their last night together, and he reached inward, for that bond he shared with them. But there was only peace. Either they still slept, content, or Bail and the droids had seen to their needs.

The 'fresher light beamed through the open door as Sabé went in, making his eyes throb dully from the sudden brightness coupled with his own lack of rest. He stared at the two dimples at the small of her back, then at last dragged himself out of bed. He was still naked, so he stepped right into the shower with her.

As he lathered the soap between his hands, the dark titanium of his wedding band stood out against his pale skin, the suds, the white of the tiles. The hot water water rained down on them, and he called up the image of Sabé taking his hand in hers to slide it onto his finger as he'd placed its mate on hers. He would've lingered in that memory forever, but just as that happy day had slipped by too quickly, he felt himself carried away, washed along by the current of the Force. It was no longer Sabé before him, but the young woman who looked so much like her, extending that familiar lightsaber to the grizzled old man.

A gift of knowledge, and understanding. And a bond.

The man had to be Luke, he knew that now. But the girl, trailed by darkness-

 _I see the island_.

That presence-it screamed like Anakin's, growled like Leia's-it pulled at him-

He shifted to block out the shadows and focus on the girl.

 _I'm no one_.

No. Obi-Wan had thought she was no one to him, but her lithe frame and dark hair were Sabé's, and something in the set of her eyes and jaw were his. Could she be a second child? No, Luke was too old.

Granddaughter?

He thought he saw a flicker on her face, as though she'd heard his question, but then she was with Luke again, trapped in that moment of offering and resistance.

"Obi-Wan?"

Sabé's voice drew him back, and he felt his eyelids flutter as though they'd been closed. He blinked in the bright overhead light of the 'fresher and allowed her to pivot him underneath the shower head to rinse off while she reached outside for the towels hanging on wall hooks.

He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I did see something," he said. "When we met in the Force yesterday."

Silently, Sabé stepped closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Under the warm water, skin against skin, he whispered to her what he'd seen, a secret that was theirs alone. A promise that although in just a little while they would part ways, their story was not at an end. He felt her smile as she brushed her lips to his cheek.

Neither of them spoke as they dried off, dressed. For the first time since Padmé's funeral, he wore Jedi garb, and he scarcely recognized himself in the ivory tunic. He stood still as Sabé draped the tabards across his shoulders, wrapped the sash around his waist, and buckled the leather belt over that. She let him guide her to the mirrored dresser, where she sat as he attempted to twist her damp hair up into her customary three buns. From time to time she reached up to help him, each brush of their fingers a silent gift. In the sterile environs of Polis Massa, her orange tunic was the only beacon of color.

And then they were ready. Well-not _ready_. But there was nothing left to do except to clip lightsaber to belt, holster blaster at hip, hoist packs over shoulders, and walk together for the last time. Sabé pressed the commlink to summon a droid to carry the rest of their meager belongings, but Obi-Wan noted that she'd slung the pack that held her books over her shoulder and now scooped up the wish plant to carry it herself to the _Sundered Heart_.

Obi-Wan's own pack felt impossibly heavy. Perhaps it was Anakin's lightsaber-or its deeds-that weighed it down. He shifted it higher on his shoulder and picked up Sabé's mother's cactus, cradling it in one arm as they exited the rooms without a backward glance.

They strode to the hangar, where Bail had told them the night before he would bring the twins to ease their departure. No need to prolong the pain, Obi-Wan told himself, but he thought it would be a very long time indeed before the ache in his chest went away. If it ever did. He would have to re-learn how not to be attached. But he didn't want that, either. Without the pain, what would he have to assure him that this had all been real? He felt a grim satisfaction as the strap of his bag dug into the bruise Sabé's teeth had left on his shoulder.

In the hangar, Bail's ship stood ready, flanked by the small escape shuttles that would carry him and Yoda, the last Jedi, into exile. One of the Alderaanian crew approached Sabé to load her baggage. Obi-Wan held out the cactus, but Sabé took it and, before he could fully process what she was doing, carried it to his shuttle and strapped it into the seat behind the co-pilot's chair. He'd never told her that was exactly how he'd imagined her trekking from planet to planet. In spite of everything that was horrible about this moment, a laugh rippled out. How was he so blessed to know her, and to be known by her?

Then his sluggish brain caught up. "But your mother gave that to you," he protested.

"I think it'll do better in the desert, with the light of two suns, than it will in a mountain valley," Sabé said.

Emotion pinched off his response, so he nodded until he could reply, "And yours? What will you wish for now?"

Sabé's eyes shimmered. "The same thing I wished for in the first place." She sighed, her breath shuddering and chin crinkling as she struggled against the tears that threatened to well up and spill down her cheeks. "I have to believe that someday, somehow, we'll be together again. All of us."

"This isn't the end," Obi-Wan said. It was the truth, from a certain point of view, and as much as he could promise.

He sensed Yoda's presence before the _tap tap tap_ of the stick echoed in the hangar and drew Sabé's attention. Bail and a woman a few years older than Sabé, a nursery maid, followed with the twins. Obi-Wan watched as Sabé left his side to scoop Luke from the other woman's arms, and he drew long breaths, reaching into the Force for peace before he took Leia from her new father.

Her features swam in his eyes and he angrily blinked the tears away, for he wanted to see every detail of his girl one last time. Leia's tiny fists reached for him, and he brought his face closer so she could grasp his beard. Her eyes, growing darker by the day, fixed on his as though she, too, needed to remember this moment. A twinge thrummed within his chest as he remembered Linz's words: _The wisdom of children is plain in their eyes_.

Leia squeezed her fingers, tugging painfully on his beard. He bowed his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead, to her smooth, rosy face, and felt her tiny mouth tasting his cheek. He sobbed.

Mercifully, Bail had moved aside to give him his moment, but Obi-Wan felt his friend's sorrow as a weight in the Force as he made his farewells to Yoda. Even now, if there were any other way, Bail would readily change plans. Did that make it better, or worse?

Obi-Wan looked over Leia's head to Sabé, whose cheeks glistened with tears even as she smiled down at Luke. She leaned in to nuzzle at the sliver of his neck beneath his rolly chin, and then she brought his head up so that his fair, downy hair tickled her nose and breathed deeply. Memorizing his scent. Obi-Wan did the same with Leia now, picturing himself and Sabé seated on the floor in front of her sofa in the middle of the night, each of them with a twin in their arms, as she taught him about the unique, sweet smell of babies.

Only when Sabé gave the fussy Luke back to the nursery maid for a nappy change did Obi-Wan relinquish Leia to Bail. "Until we meet again, little one."

Cradling Leia in one arm against his broad chest, Bail shook Obi-Wan's hand. "Anything at all, you have only-"

"You've done more than enough," Obi-Wan said. "I...we can never thank you-"

Bail's grip on his hand tightened. "Sabé will have everything she needs."

 _Except for me._ Obi-Wan smiled as he nodded.

He turned to find her, but a small figure standing by its escape shuttle caught his attention. For the first time in Obi-Wan's memory, Yoda seemed uncertain, casting his eyes toward the shuttle, then back to the goodbyes taking place in front of him. Obi-Wan went to him and crouched so they could speak eye to eye.

But then he found he didn't know what to say.

Yoda drew himself up with a sigh, closing his eyes as he exhaled. When he opened them, he stepped forward and placed a gnarled hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Closer to the Force this path will lead you," he said, his voice raspy as though he, too, had suffered a sleepless night. "In time, clear its will and purpose will become."

Obi-Wan knew Yoda could feel him pushing against the lurking rage that threatened to upset the docile acceptance of his lot, so he merely pressed his lips together and nodded. There would time enough to excise his anger, though part of him feared he'd loosed a monster, just as Anakin had. Fury lay beneath the defeats of Darth Maul and Astor Ren, and had endowed him with such power that it frightened him.

Fear. Anger. He inhaled and released the emotions into the Force until he could face them again.

"Thank you for your guidance, Master," he said.

Together they closed their eyes for a moment of communion, and all of their shared past swirled around him like leaves in a windstorm.

A pinch on his shoulder let him know that Yoda was ready to say his farewells. He opened his eyes to see the little master shuffling over to the babies. At the front of his mind lingered the memories Yoda had shared with him, of laughter in the Temple crèche, a white-robed figure scarcely the size of the little Master drowning in a helmet and batting at a hologram with a training saber. _Good, good. Flows through you, the Force does._

Why was it not the will of the Force that they should continue with the twins, his own son, in this way? It had not all been right but it had been, as Yoda said, _good._

Now, he stood to full height. Met Sabé's eyes from where she stood a few feet away. Just as she had at Padmé's funeral, she flew into his arms and they clung together. Her tears ran into his beard, his into the stray tendrils of hair in front of her ear. All he could see through the shimmer of his tears was the orange of her tunic, as hopeful as a setting sun that knows it will rise again in the morning.

How long they stood that way he couldn't have said, but it was long enough for Yoda to board his shuttle and fire up the engines. Obi-Wan lifted his head from Sabé's shoulder, dragging a sleeve across his face in time to see the nursemaid buckle Luke into the co-pilot's seat in front of the passenger seat where Sabé had strapped in the cactus. Bail had already boarded the _Sundered Heart_ with Leia and was presumably taking his time going through his pre-flight checklist with Artoo.

"They're waiting for us," Sabé choked out, but she didn't loosen her hold on him, nor did Obi-Wan's arms release her from his embrace when he said, "It's time." If he let go, he didn't know if he could remain standing, or if she would fall; they seemed to be holding each other up. When they met in the funeral procession in Theed, she'd taken his hand and led the way. Now they would have to walk away from each other.

But before that, a final kiss, for he could not bring himself to say the word _goodbye_. Their hands raked across each other's faces, tongues tasting the tears that ran into their mouths, those final, desperate kisses that would seal the end of one life and usher in the new.

It wasn't clear who stepped back first. All Obi-Wan knew was that in one moment his body was flush against Sabé's, and the next it was painfully solitary, as though part of him had been severed. She stood before him, shivering as though she were cold, her face contorted by grief and loss, a mirror of his own.

How did one walk away? Could he even command his body to turn? Just as with Yoda, memories swirled around and through him, of the life they'd started to build together, the babies they'd come to love as their own, the one that grew inside her, the foundation of love that he knew would support them no matter what hardships the galaxy hurled their way.

He'd thought he could face anything, so long as she faced it with him, two rivers running side by side toward the living sea. A memory burst into his mind of looking together in the same direction, staring into the binary suns on Tatooine, the day he'd awakened to her presence. Could he watch her go, as he had then when he'd thought they could never belong together?

A whimper drifted out from his shuttle. A louder, angry cry from the _Sundered Heart_.

And there was the answer. Obi-Wan almost smiled. So did Sabé. They would turn from each other, because the children needed them-as they'd left each other's embrace so many times when the twins cried out for their attention. But their lives would not be flowing in separate directions, not truly. Whether on Alderaan or on Tatooine, they'd share the work of planting the seeds and turning them toward the sun, nurturing their little family as it grew.

"Go," Sabé said, hoarsely, and he knew what it cost her to utter just that much. "Go in peace."

His whisper matched hers. "And you, my love."

As one, they turned, and he felt her presence recede, leaving him feeling chilled as he climbed the ramp to board his shuttle. But he couldn't look.

His astromech had already performed its requisite checks, and Obi-Wan automatically buckled himself in before flipping the manual switches to begin the takeoff sequence. While he waited, he looked over at Luke fussing in the modified co-pilot's seat.

"You miss them, too." He reached out and placed a hand over Luke's squirming chest, pressed warmly against his heart. "We'll muddle through, young one."

A deep rumble and flash of light. The _Sundered Heart_ lifted off the hangar floor and shot through the bay. He blinked after it until it was a tiny speck in the sky, then watched the sky for a long while after the speck itself disappeared.

Something touched him. He looked down. He'd forgotten his hand was on Luke's chest, and the boy had rested his tiny fingers atop his. For a moment he lost himself in the blue of the eyes inherited from the father who had once been a little boy Obi-Wan knew. Who had looked at him exactly like that, revealing a heart that understood separation and grief. And it gave him the strength to go, to meet the uncertain path the Force had laid out before them.

Once the shuttle cleared the asteroid field, he set the coordinates to Tatooine and switched control over to the astromech who, along with the Force, would bear him dispassionately into his future just as his grief would try to anchor him to his past.

"Flying is for droids-" he began with a glance at Luke, but the boy's eyes were scrunched closed, lulled to sleep by the hum of the starship's motion, Obi-Wan's voice unheard as the shuttle slipped through the void of hyperspace.

In Theed he thought he'd felt relieved to be no one, where he could mourn in solitude. But then the Force had guided him into Sabé's arms. Now, hurtling him farther away from her, the cold seeped deeper into his bones. All the heat of Tatooine's binary suns would never thaw it. He pulled up his hood, tucked his hands into the sleeves of his cloak.

He was a quick study. He'd learn to be no one on his own.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Obi-Wan and Sabé have said goodbye to each other, but you don't have to say goodbye to this story just yet: we'll post the epilogue on January 4. Happy New Year to you all...even if this is a sad chapter. D: 
> 
> If you like a little music with your fic, check out the utter perfection of the [playlist](https://playmoss.com/en/k2/playlist/queen-of-peace) [Glorious_Clio](http://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio) made to accompany it. Many thanks to her--and to all our readers and reviewers! <3


	17. Chapter 17

**_EPILOGUE_ **

_18 BBY_

“ _Leia Organa, the people’s princess_ ,” the holovision blared over the beeping of the medical monitors, “ _celebrated her first birthday in grand style on Alderaan. Accompanied by proud parents Queen Breha and Prince Consort Bail Organa, a procession through the capital city of Aldera yesterday ended in an all-night planetwide party, which was a welcome distraction from the news of late._ ”

"Shut it off," Sabé gritted to the midwife droid hovering over her. Its photoreceptors flashed in what might have been annoyance, but not offending droids wasn't really top priority at the moment. Just as holos about Leia's royal birthday weren't as welcome a distraction to her as they were to the rest of the population.

It had been during that all-night party that Sabé's labor began. She'd gone to bed much earlier; these days she was unable to be on her feet for long without ankles swelling and back aching, but more than that she'd been unable to be in the midst of the celebrations without hearing Obi-Wan's voice in her head: _I'll be a hit at the kids' birthday parties_. Sleep had eluded her more often than not throughout her pregnancy, but she nevertheless hoped it would come and stop her from torturing herself with fruitless ideas about how they might have celebrated with Luke and Leia on the Dantooine base, or wondering whether Obi-Wan had been able to be with Luke on Tatooine. In the end, it wasn't sleep that distracted her, but the sharpening pain in her back that made it impossible to lie comfortably in bed, followed by the sudden gush of clear fluid on the tile when she went to the 'fresher to try and relieve it with a warm shower.

And now here she was, six hours later, before most of the planet had even awakened, wishing she could hold hands with a kriffing _droid_ , for there was no one else. The silence following the hologram switching off was blissful--or would've been, if she could stop her own groaning and huffing.

She’d never known pain like this.

“Have you reconsidered the anesthetic?” intoned the droid. “If you wait too long, the pain of labor may not be remediated until after the child is born. At which point it will be too--”

“I know, I know,” Sabé panted.

Standing upright, she gripped the bed’s footboard during the worst of this contraction, for pacing had become too difficult. It was as though some gigantic hand squeezed from within her lower back, and all she could do was breathe and shudder. The shaking of her hands was uncontrollable, even while she held tight to the curved wooden bed frame.

There. The contraction had passed. Gingerly, she lowered herself into the one comfortable chair to try to rest until the next one overtook her. Focusing on regulating her breathing, she reached up to clutch her wedding ring, which she'd worn on a chain since her fingers had swelled too much in the final month for it to fit, and stared at the trailing foliage of her wish plant. She'd brought it with her to the birthing facility at the suggestion of a book that an item of personal significance could be helpful for centering oneself.

 _Nothing but the best for our Sabé_ , Bail had promised, and he hadn’t been kidding. Aldera’s Women’s Center had it all. In her room stood a bed significantly more spacious than a standard hospital bed, with tall bedposts and sturdy head- and footboards, a birthing chair, and a beautiful adjoining ‘fresher for a water birth, should she desire it. The idea was that a woman in labor might change her mind about what sort of birth plan might work. That had already been the case for Sabé, who'd imagined taking a practical approach, getting an epidural and sleeping through as much of the labor as she could, because stars knew she wouldn't be getting much after the baby came. But once the pangs had begun, tightening her belly, she'd found she wanted to feel them, excruciating as they were.

She’d thought vaguely about reaching out into the Force for Obi-Wan; but she was no practitioner, and she’d never been more distracted in her life, despite the focal point of her wish plant. If a Jedi could meditate during labor, she’d eat a Bantha.

She was no Jedi.

The unseen hand clamped around her belly and back again, and she moaned, twisting to one side in the chair and heaving to her feet to press against the wall for support. That was the only thing that she seemed to be able to do. Breathe, and quake, and moan.

And she thought she might possibly vomit.

A soft _whoosh_ told her someone had entered the birthing quarters, and soon she felt a firm hand on her lower back. She glanced to her left and met brown eyes.

Breha.

"Y-you shouldn't--"

" _You_ shouldn't try to talk," the Queen shushed her.

Sabé obeyed. She couldn't talk anyway. At least not until the contraction passed and Breha helped her to ease back from the wall and into the chair again. The loose white hospital gown, drenched in sweat, felt cold against her skin.

For a moment Sabé shivered with eyes closed and head resting against the high padded back of the chair, one hand fingering the ring on her necklace. When she opened them, she looked up into the concerned face of the Queen, who stood with hands on her hips looking down at Sabé as if she were an exasperating child instead of an expectant mother.

"Why didn't you tell anyone your labor had begun?" she asked.

"I did," Sabé replied, her jaw stiff as she tried to quell its trembling.  

Breha pursed her lips. "A _droid_. With instructions not to wake us. While you waddled down the lane to the birthing center."

"I called a cab," Sabé retorted, weakly. She didn’t have the strength to look appropriately chagrined, or even to feel piqued at being chastised while she was in labor. But Breha knelt in front of her, the steel in her eyes melting into warmth.

“Let me help you, Sabé.”

She managed a shaky smile and a nod. “Thank you.”

“Pfft.” Breha waved her thanks away and clasped her hand. “Whatever you need me to do.”

The Queen was so like Padmé that tears flooded Sabé’s eyes. She blinked them away. “A warm compress would be lovely.”

“Done.” Breha stood with crackling knees and went to the small warming unit that held the compresses.

During her brief respite between contractions, Sabé took in the Queen’s appearance. Breha had dressed in soft boots, dark brown leggings, and a belted off-white tunic. Her face was scrubbed, her hair braided and pinned around her head, looking as regal in the the simple hairstyle as she would in a crown of precious metal and jewels. Fortunately, Sabé was too wrung out to think too much about her own bedraggled appearance in comparison.

When Breha returned with the compress, Sabé leaned forward so the Queen could slip it behind her. She tried to sit back again, but Breha kept her hand in place, kneading the tense muscles on either side of her spine. Sabé had to admit, it helped. A lot. Her mother’s face flashed before her eyes, and she had to blink away tears a second time. Did a woman ever stop longing for her mother? More than ever, she wanted to believe that somehow both her parents could see their grandson after he was born.

After a moment, Breha asked, "Does Obi-Wan know?"

Realizing she was clutching her ring again, the pad of her thumb sliding back and forth across the smooth titanium, Sabé stopped and lowered her hand. She shook her head, unable to speak as another contraction built. It couldn't have been five minutes already, could it? And yet it didn't seem as dagger-like as the one before, as the warmth at her back, Breha's soothing hand, helped her to relax rather than strain against it.

"Don't tell me it's because you didn't want to worry him."

Sabé must've looked guilty as charged, because Breha chuckled. "It's no wonder you fell in love with a Jedi. You're cut from the same cloth."

At that, Sabé actually let out a chuff of laughter. It was a good feeling, and she was grateful for Breha's insistence on being here, though it did make her think how Obi-Wan had told her she had a way of making him laugh when he was at his lowest. A different kind of ache pinched her chest as she allowed herself another moment of longing.

"He thought you might do this" Breha went on, rubbing her palm in a circle over the compress. "He sent Bail a message a few days ago, saying that he wanted to know when the time came. I can have Bail contact him."

"Thank you, but…this might sound a bit mad to you, but I wanted to tell him another way." An encrypted message from Bail seemed so distant and impersonal.

Although Breha's brow furrowed, she said, "Through the Force?"

"When I meditate...he can find me sometimes." It worked best when Leia was near, her light a beacon to him across the star systems. They'd also felt each other, even seen a glimpse, during false labor contractions. That was why Sabé had refused the epidural. The pain of the real thing, she'd hoped, might heighten their connection. But… "I don't know if I can clear my mind enough right now to do it."

And trying but failing might be more than she could bear. She hardly made it through each contraction without coming apart for wanting him. It should be _his_ hands on her, _his_ encouraging words in her ear, _his_ eyes to first see their baby.

Still, she had to try.

Fixing her gaze on the wish plant, she closed her hand around her wedding ring and shut her eyes.

For her, meditation had never felt like reaching, as Obi-Wan had described his own experience. It felt like remaining still so that the Force could meet _her_. So that was what she did now.

The hand came. She wasn’t sure if it was the one that gripped her innards or the gentle grasp of the Force, but something held her even as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Part of her was aware of her breath coming again in regular huffs, and of standing again. Someone’s hands pressed hard into her lower back while her own wrapped around a bedpost to keep herself from falling.

But she fell anyway, dropped in, to _here_.

And here he was.

~*~

There she was.

Obi-wan had been waiting for her. For how long, he couldn't say. Since her labor began, a sharp pang in the Force waking him in the small hours of the morning. Not bothering to change from his sleeping clothes or break his fast, he'd drawn his cloak around his shoulders, which shivered as much from fear as from the cold desert predawn, for the only other birth he'd witnessed had not gone well for the mother. Padmé's fate, of course, had little to do with the act of bringing children into the world, but he nevertheless found himself contemplating the Naboo goddess of safety who stood on the table, next to Sabé’s mother’s cactus, in front of the eastward window of his hut.

The twin suns would rise eventually, and he’d be ready when they did.

Tuned in to the exquisite pains of Sabé's body, he could no longer feel his own. Even the wild terror in his gut that something would go wrong felt like a dull memory. Still, he swept it farther away when he could, lest it bleed through to her somehow, focusing on her goddess of safety statue; for the Force worked through all things, including deities. If Sabé felt even a small, familiar comfort from it, he would consider it a success.

As the suns ascended to their zenith, the planet's temperature rose, too. He'd shed his cloak without being aware of it; his shirt, drenched in sweat, clung to his back and torso, as did the gown draped over Sabé. His muscles tensed in sympathetic harmony with hers, and he had to draw ever deeper on the Force to relax them enough to keep the fear at bay and stay in his meditative state. For what had seemed an eternity he’d been too far away to help, but now she was here, with him.

The moment she dropped in, he swaddled her in the Force, wrapped her in light--just as he'd dreamed so many months ago when their child began to form in her womb. He hadn't understood then that _this_ was the future he'd seen, the course that the current of the Force had carried them down.

 _The Force never fails_ , he'd told Sabé, and the light enveloped him now, too.

The Force never failed, and neither had he. Not in this.

With that realization, a bit of the sickening rage he carried wicked out of him as though the light were a bandage, his anger a poisoned and bloody wound that, until now, hadn’t been dressed properly.

"You’re here," Obi-Wan said, his heart lightening further. He did not discard that emotion, but embraced the peace and happiness he always found in her.

Sabé's eyes opened, rich with pain, yet more vivid and present than they were in the glitchy holograms, and met his. "Hi," she huffed out. "Hard to talk right now."

"I know. You don't need to. Just release the pain into the Force."

The glare she shot at him was so welcome, so _Sabé_ , that Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He did both. “Or just ignore everything I say and let me guide the Force to you.”

“That’s helpful.”

A flash drew his eye to a silver chain around her neck, her fist closed around the wedding ring she'd strung on it, just as he fidgeted with its mate on his own left hand. He reached out, forward, not noticing he’d moved until his fingers threaded between hers hers.

They both stared in wonder at their clasped hands, then into each other’s eyes again until the contraction gripped harder, shaking them both. He relaxed his hand and sent the Force into her, bending his body over hers until his other arm wrapped around her girth, hand pressing into her back. He could almost feel the heat of her breath on his cheek.

Then the contraction passed, and he was crouched over the gritty floor of his hut with nothing but dust floating through the shaft of sunlight before his eyes.

Panic stabbed at him, but Obi-Wan fixed his gaze once more on the goddess of safety and the leggy, flowerless cactus beside it. He settled back again, closed his eyes, and waited.

Until she returned.

Interesting. It was the labor pangs that brought Sabé to him, like the build of waves rolling toward the shore. This time when she rose toward him, he caught her in his arms, felt her sigh of relief.

"You're doing wonderfully," he told her, brushing her hair back from her forehead, the dark strands damp, skin sticky with sweat.

"I'm not doing much," she muttered. "Except moaning like a she-bantha."

"Oh, I thought that was the herd across the sand dune."

She shot him another irate look, and he chuckled. “You have every right to make any noise you like.”

"You're karking right I do." Her forehead dropped against his shoulder; she was so heavy in his arms, her belly hard as the muscles contracted.

He was about to tell her to release the pain again, but at the last moment caught himself and said instead, " _Breathe_."  

Sabé did, a deep exhale, and the peak of the contraction hit him in force, breaking apart and dissipating. This time, as her presence ebbed from him, he didn't grasp at her, for he felt the next one beginning to build already.

"Will it be much longer?" Obi-Wan asked when she returned, unable to reign in his own anxiety, his eagerness to meet his son, his desperation for her suffering to end.

She could only shake her head in reply. It must be close. He felt her fingers clinging limply to the back of his tunic as his own arms pulled her into him, her forehead pressing against his chest, the moan reverberating through his own breastbone as she rolled with the pain. As best he could, he became the Force for her, held her up as she’d done for him, so many times.

And then...there _he_ was. Their son. He hadn’t emerged yet from his mother's womb, but Obi-Wan felt his presence, so much stronger than when he’d placed his hand over Sabé’s abdomen on Polis Massa. Somehow he knew her labor was nearing its end. The periods where Sabé receded from him in the Force were fewer now, and farther between, until there was almost no lapse at all between the surges in her pain. Yet time had never felt more relative as this continued on and on, for minutes or hours, buffeting him until he wasn't sure how there could be anything left.

He thanked the Force it had a use for him.

Time and space continued to warp and stretch until he was sure he must be there, with her, or that she was here with him. Through a haze of dusty light and agony, he saw two suns in syzygy. Was that his memory, or was it simply his perception of the star systems his spirit seemed to hover between? His own body was irrelevant as he sent the Force through it to hers. She could take his strength, all of it, for it didn’t matter if nothing remained of him, so long as she and their son came through this, alive and strong. His only reason for being lay in his arms, across the galaxy.

Obi-Wan's body aligned with Sabé's, as did his breathing, until he wasn’t certain whose voice cried out, whose muscles seized, whose elbows bore into the floor, whose thighs shook with the effort of pushing through one contraction and into the next. Was it Sabé who held him now? Or was that her, nestled in his arms, back against his chest as she panted and sobbed?

"He's almost here, my love....Almost here…" His voice was swallowed up by one prolonged cry that shattered into a wail.

One voice became two.  Obi-Wan's heart cracked open, not broken, but too full to contain all it held, and he fell to the floor, quaking.

Suddenly he was cold, the sweat evaporating from his skin, the tremor in his hands uncontrollable as he lay on his back and stared at the white synstone ceiling of his little house. His fingers twitched to find Sabé’s, but they were already gone, wrapped around a tiny baby held against her heaving chest. Her sobs became the familiar throaty chuckle he loved, and for the first time, he was aware of another presence near her--not a midwife droid but a woman. Breha Organa, who was shortly joined by Bail.

Something pinched in Obi-Wan's chest, but he released it with his breath, too exhausted for any emotion so petty as jealousy. He had a son, a healthy one, judging from the sound that ripped from those tiny lungs, and Sabé was safe. Thank the goddess...thank the Force…

A bit of color on the countertop caught his eye. He sat up and saw that, during the long hours of her labor, Sabé’s cactus had produced a single red bloom.

The last words he heard from her lips before their connection dissolved were, “Come and see Ben.”

~*~

 _Ben_. It had to be Ben.

Sabé hadn’t known it until she saw his eyes, stormy as his father’s, but then the name slipped from her lips as easily as it had when she and her then-pretend husband first arrived in Keren, self-consciously holding hands like teenagers who had something to hide. She reached for him now...

...but Obi-Wan was gone. He--or she?--must have drifted away when the clenching agony that brought their son into the world had finally abated, the pain dulling as tears dried on her cheeks and laughter bubbled in her throat.

Ben. _Their son_. He was perfect. Aside from the fact that he had his full complement of fingers and toes, she knew that every other part of him was present and accounted for; somehow she knew it as fully as she knew Obi-Wan had been here with her, guiding her through the endless pain like a light beckoning a ship to port.

And here he was, Ben, the most glorious thing she’d ever held in her arms. The midwife droid was chattering for her to allow it to clean up the baby, but Sabé couldn’t bear to let go of him yet. His hair was a dark whorl on his perfect little head, his fingers red and wrinkled as though he’d been in the bath for too long, his voice strident and strong.

Silently she thanked the Maker for allowing her as much time as she’d had with Luke and Leia. She'd be terrified now, if she had to face this not only without her husband but without a lick of experience.

Eventually, she did relinquish her baby--not to the droid, but to Breha, who bathed him. With a word of congratulations and a promise to come back later and get better acquainted with Ben, Bail stepped out to give Sabé privacy while the droid assisted her with the postpartum necessities, though she was barely aware of what was happening due to the swirl of emotion and exhaustion within her and the distraction of Ben's vocal objections to his bath. Then everything was done, and she reached out again for the bundle that seemed to be more blanket than baby, and his wailing dropped to tiny mewls, like a kitten, as she brushed her lips to his brow.

"Now doesn't it feel nice to be fresh and clean?" she murmured to him, pulling back his white knitted cap to sniff his head. New and perfect and _hers_ \--not in the sense of possession, but rather as the most perfect thing that could come from her. She and Obi-Wan together had created this beautiful little person, and she thought her heart might crack in two from the sheer awe of it all. That her tone could remain so lighthearted, her words so _ordinary_ , in the face of such magnificence, astounded her. "You look civilized now. So handsome, just like your papa."

 _She_ hopefully looked a little more civilized herself, thanks to Breha brushing and braiding her sweat-matted hair. Out the corner of her eye, a flash of blue drew her gaze to the bedside table, where her personal hologram projector lit up, preparing to receive a transmission. With a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, the Queen slipped out to find her own husband as Obi-Wan's image crackled to life.

“Sabé,” he said.

Even through the poor quality of the flickering hologram, she could see his hair hanging lank over his eyes, as though he’d worked nearly as hard as she had to bring his son into the world. Her heart throbbed with love and longing. The urge to reach out and comb her fingers through the damp red-gold, to push it back from his forehead and tidy it, was almost too much to resist. But he wasn't here.

While she mastered her emotion, Sabé turned Ben gently so that Obi-Wan could see his face.

"Well, hello there," he said, and Sabé smiled because _what else_ would he say when meeting his own son? His eyes, shimmering with emotion, flicked up to her. "Ben. I heard you say Ben. Is that...what you've named him?"

"Ben Jinn," she said, still a little choked with tears. But she heard Obi-Wan's sharp intake of breath and knew he was, too. "Meet your papa."

His lips soundlessly formed the word _papa,_ as if he were testing it. He must have been pleased, because he smiled slightly. But he raised an eyebrow as he said aloud, “I thought we were going to name him after your father?”

“He has the family name. Ben Jinn Al’Lur Kenobi. And a more illustrious line to carry on I could not imagine.”

Even though they had to be no one. Here, he was just Ben Al’Lur. The governess' son. For now.

Obi-Wan’s fingers twitched. “I wish I could hold him.”

A tight lump in her throat prevented her response for a moment as her gaze darted to her wish plant. “I do, too,” she said at length. “But you were right to stay away. Until we know how strong this beacon is. Better yet, how to mask it.”

In response, he only nodded. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with a breath, as if he'd physically released the emotion. When he spoke again, he looked lighter, though that might've been a trick of the hologram.

"Does he have any hair?" he asked, tilting his head for a closer look.

Sabé slipped the cap off Ben's head, and Obi-Wan chuckled at the dark fuzz that stood on end. "Just like your mama when she wakes up in the morning."

She was too happy even to pretend to glare at him. "But he has your eyes."

"They could darken. Like Leia's did."

They could. Sabé hoped they wouldn't. She traced the dimple in his chin.

"Look what we made," she whispered.

A wide grin split Obi-Wan’s face. "Look what we made,” he repeated.

He finally ran a hand through his hair and shifted, hunching forward to try and see Ben as closely as he could. Sabé noticed that he wore his sleep garments. Had he awakened in the night during her labor?

Before she could ask, Ben began to fuss. The midwife droid offered to prepare a bottle, but Sabé opened the front of her robe and guided the wide open mouth to her breast. At first Ben seemed confused, his tiny lips opening and closing around the nipple without suckling, but the droid instructed her about positioning. Sabé shifted  his head, and he latched on--painfully at first, but after a couple of adjustments to his seal on her skin, a deeply relaxing sensation washed over her, making her sink back against the pillows.

"You're a natural," Obi-Wan's voice drew her attention back to the blueish image on the bedside table. He'd sat back, too, and although she couldn't be certain with the flicker of the hologram, he looked almost as peaceful as she felt.

"I read a book." At his chuckle, she went on, stroking Ben's velvety head. "This is one aspect of newborn care I have no experience with."

"It certainly seems convenient, not having to prepare bottles in the middle of the night. And...it's a beautiful sight."  

Sabé’s cheeks warmed as serenity stole all through her. If only Obi-Wan were here, the joy of this day might surpass that of their wedding day.

Before the prickle in her eyes could fully form into tears, she asked “Did you see Luke yesterday?”

A thin line formed between his eyebrows, and her heart sank. “Owen Lars thinks it safest to keep me at arm’s length. For Luke’s protection. I am a wanted man.”

His tone, too carefully bland,  told her there was more to that story, but she was too heartbroken and angry to ask and make it worse for him. He truly was alone on Tatooine.

But the lines ebbed from his forehead, the sadness abating like a wave rolling back out to sea, and the smile that formed in its place was more than a mask.

"I saw in the holos that Leia had a birthday celebration fit for a princess."

Sabé nodded. "She stayed awake for more of it than I did."

"Well, that's nothing new. Perhaps...I'll be able to come for Ben's first birthday."

It had been six months already since their last embrace on Polis Massa. Sabé couldn't bear that length of time twice again.

"Come for mine," she said. "It's in three months, and my wish list is very short. I’ve already talked with the plant."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Care for a souvenir from Tatooine? The Jawas come by regularly with offerings of the most fascinating junk. They seem to have the idea that I'm a magician."

"Whatever would have given them that impression?"

“They think I’m a madman because I talk to myself." The twinkle in his eye was visible even through the flickering of the hologram. “But that’s clearly a story for another day,” he added--for Sabé had not been able to suppress a yawn. "I should let you sleep. You've earned it."

"So've you," she replied, eyelids drooping. "Did you even pause to make caf?"

He shook his head, his smile gentle. "But I dare not complain about the headache in light of how you must be feeling."

Sabé chuckled. "I love you."

"And I love you. Both of you."

They gazed at one another, Obi-Wan reaching out with a hand as though he could touch the ghostly images before him. Finally Sabé said, "You'll have to shut off the transmission first, because I'm too tired to move my arm."

She didn't see her husband's holographic image dissolve, because she'd already fallen asleep.

~*~

Tired as he was, Obi-Wan knew sleep wouldn’t come easily, and presently a rented speeder dropped him at Mos Eisley spaceport. Rubbing shoulders with scum and villains had its advantages, he had to admit, for he’d never felt more anonymous than he did now. He needn’t worry about being discovered in the cantina, for every other patron there had a dubious relationship with the law, and no one wanted the eyes of the Empire drawn here, for any reason.

Still, he wasn’t a fool. He kept his hood up. And pocketed his wedding ring.

“A ruge liqueur,” he said to the human barkeep. The man rose from loading glasses into the sonic dishwasher and leveled a disbelieving sneer at him. “Or a Retox. Whichever you’ve got.”

“Tatooine Sunset.”

“Fine.”

 _I’m celebrating_.

The band onstage squeaked out a tune that sounded like every other song he’d heard in Chalmun’s Cantina, but at least it was cheerful and would drown out the tamer outbursts and scuffles. Besides, it was early; there was no smear of blood or ichor on the floor yet. Obi-Wan had neglected to eat, and even he questioned the wisdom of downing such a strong drink on an empty stomach.

But he was a new father, and as such he deserved to have a headache in the morning. It wouldn't be much of a change from his present state.

The barkeep slid the drink to him and snatched up the credits, turning his back to attend another customer. Obi-Wan turned, too, and scanned the place for a suitable table to nurse his drink in solitude. Naturally, the darkest and most private corner booths were already occupied, questionable deals being muttered across the grimy tabletops in a variety of languages. His eye fell on a table near the bandstand where a young man who looked like he was in over his head sat with a couple of bounty hunters. After a moment's deliberation, Obi-Wan approached them.

"On second thought," he said with a wave of his hand, "the deal is off."

After the bounty hunters exchanged looks, they repeated, "On second thought, the deal is off," and cleared out of the booth, the young man, spluttering in confusion and outrage, at their heels.

Obi-Wan slid in, ignoring the stickiness on the seat and the dark spatter on the wall behind his head. He balanced his elbows on the table and took a sip; exotic, with a hint of sweetness underneath.

Strong, too. He felt the pull of the alcohol almost immediately, and realized that he hadn't had a drink since Club Deeja the night of his wedding.

"To my brave wife," he said, and raised the glass again. "And our son, Ben Jinn."

"Will you choose not to be drunk?"

Obi-Wan swallowed and lowered his drink. “Kriff, no.”

He smiled as Qui-Gon’s transparent image appeared before him, almost as if his old Master had slid into the seat opposite.

“I’d offer you a drink, but…” Obi-Wan gestured vaguely at the ethereal form.

"I appreciate the thought," replied Qui-Gon. “In any case, one of us should be sober to ensure you don't wind up on stage with the band."

"Nothing in their repertoire seems to have lyrics. I'd have to improvise."

"On second thought, perhaps I would like to see this."

Qui-Gon’s chuckle hadn’t changed. Obi-Wan could almost feel it reverberate within his own chest, somewhere outside the twin pangs of loss and relief that he still felt whenever his Master joined him for a chat.

“Celebrating, I heard you say.”

He hadn’t said it aloud, but of course Qui-Gon had heard. “My son was born today. He’s named for me. And you.”

“I am honored.”

"And you were right, all those years ago."

"I'm sure I was right about many things," Qui-Gon replied. "And wrong about a great many more. To which do you refer?"

"The poetry of Amaar Ren. The one you always said was about love, but I stubbornly insisted was about the Force."

"Ah, yes," said Qui-Gon." _You may seek and never find, Until you find what you never sought…_ "

" _And the secret of all becomes yours,_ " Obi-Wan concluded.

"What changed your point of view on your reading of it?"

"Reciting it to Sabé. She was rather effectively...wooed."

Qui-Gon's transparent brow arched in amusement. "Thank your stars I'm not corporeal. If I were, I'd order you another drink in the hope of getting more of these confessions out of you."

But Obi-Wan didn't require the encouragement of alcohol to go on, more seriously. “Actually, I was thinking of something else you were right about. You never said, but waited for me to realize it myself. Sabé _did_ change me that day. She continues to change me.”

“And yet I still recognize you.”

Obi-Wan raised his glass. The dim light filtering through layers of crimson and amber liquid did, indeed, look a bit like a sunset. Sensing eyes on him, he turned his head and peered out from beneath his hood to see other patrons watching him talk to no one across the booth. They looked hastily away, and he settled back, raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon as he drank long, then put his cup back on the table.

"Even though I'm the madman now?"

"It takes one to know one."

This time Obi-Wan chuckled, and the smiling face of his Master dispelled the ghost of Astor Ren, ragged and raving in Theed. Qui-Gon looked the same as he always had--younger, perhaps--and Obi-Wan realized that someday he’d surpass him in years. If he lived long enough.

"Then again, true madness would have been never to learn. I may have been terribly slow about it, but...I understand your teachings. At last."

"I'm sorry," said Qui-Gon, his voice deep, no, _heavy_ with the weight of knowledge he'd borne alone for so long. He bowed his head. "I never wished for you to suffer."

"It feels less today than it did."

"Are you sure that isn't the alcohol?"

Obi-Wan eyed his drink, which was disappearing more rapidly than he'd intended. Tomorrow would bring a different kind of suffering.

"No, I felt it before. In the Force, when Sabé was in labor. She brought our son into the world, and I was able to release some of the rage and sorrow." How could he explain? “I started to understand with Luke and Leia, but now…”

Qui-Gon merely watched him, that small smile crinkling his eyes as he waited for Obi-Wan to continue.

“There are things greater than the Force.” Saying it aloud unsettled him. He wasn’t certain whether it was fear or elation that stirred him.

But Qui-Gon nodded. “Your understanding exceeds mine,” he said. “As I knew it would.”

Obi-Wan’s heart swelled at his former Master’s pronouncement, but he shook his head. “Sabé’s wisdom dwarfs mine. She knew... _knew_ that this was our lot, and she accepted it months ago, while I kept...struggling.”

“And now?”

“It’s the waiting,” he sighed. “I couldn’t accept it. But…”

Qui-Gon was silent. Obi-Wan took another draught.

“Now I feel, somehow, that I know all about it. About waiting. For my family.” He stared into his Master’s face and knew he didn’t have to convince him of it. “They’ll come back one day.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes were serious even as he smiled. “They always do,” he said, “one way or another. You cannot deny the truth that is your family.”

And yet he and Sabé would, by necessity, deny any relation of Obi-Wan to Ben, at least until the boy was old enough to keep quiet. Just as Leia and Luke could not know they had a twin across the galaxy; their only truths would be that of the princess of Alderaan and a farmboy on Tatooine.

What could ever prepare them to learn the truth of _their_ father?

"Well, I certainly have time to think about how to break it to them," he mused aloud, draining the last of his sunset. Qui-Gon's gaze tracked the empty glass down to the table.

"I would advise you to discount any ideas you have about it tonight," his Master said.

Obi-Wan snorted. "If I even remember anything about tonight."

"I'll remind you of the important parts when next we commune."

“You’re assuming I’ll have sobered up by then.”

“I’ll take you just as you are.” There was sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes.

Obi-Wan wished for another swig to loosen the tightness in his throat, keeping his own gaze on the bottom of his empty glass. "You were always drawn to the more pathetic life forms."

Qui-Gon remained silent until Obi-Wan looked at him again.

“A star can have many forms, young one. A red dwarf, a blue giant. Binary suns." He folded his arms and regarded his former Padawan. “Do you think a planet could survive without its sun?”

Obi-Wan knew what Qui-Gon meant, that somehow his life had taken on a new iteration, and that he would continue to provide for those who needed him. But where were _his_ suns?

His Master bowed his head as though Obi-Wan had voiced the question aloud. Without knowing why, he stood, made his way automatically to the doorway, and out into the hot, dry night air.

He’d missed the sunset.

Though there was too much light from the spaceport to see the thousands of stars overhead, he knew they all winked at him, most of them hosts to their own systems of planets. So many lives. So much joy and grief all around him.

Here, he was no one, and his losses were no more special than anyone else’s.

And yet--against all Jedi sentiment--his gains felt most extraordinary.

Obi-Wan had only taken a few steps toward a speeder-for-hire when the sandstorm hit.

Scurrying toward an inn, he paid for a room and sequestered himself there. He ordered room service and finally ate a meal.

Then he slept all through the howling night.

The silence woke him before dawn and he sat up, breathing heavily, face streaked with tears, though he couldn’t remember whether his nightmare had been of losing Sabé or finding Anakin. He’d sweat through his shirt and tunic, and his hair clung to the nape of his neck. Swinging his legs over the edge of the cot, he reached for the cloak draped over the single chair, shrugged into it, and swept from the room. After all this time, he’d gotten rather good at choosing not to be drunk.

The sky was shifting from dusky purple to orange when the rented speeder dropped him at his hovel, so he decided to remain outside and watch the sunrise as he leaned against the synstone. Dust and sand particles swam through the air like bioforms, and he watched, mesmerized. The growing light shone brilliantly all around him, illuminating the spectacle.

And when the planet’s rotation finally delivered the sunrise, Obi-Wan saw not two yellow stars but one giant glowing sphere as their celestial bodies aligned in perfect syzygy, red as his heart’s blood through the haze of the sandstorm’s remains.

  
He closed his eyes and walked, open armed, toward it.

**_THE END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for accompanying our heroes on their journey. This fic may be over, but their story isn’t. We plan some outtakes and short sequels, as well as an AU in which they do join the Rebellion. We hope to see you again, and thank you once more for all your support.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dropping the Ball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371420) by [mrstater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/pseuds/mrstater)




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